


Batman: Dread and Panic

by illegible



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Can be read out of context, Fan Continuation, Foe Yay, Gen, Horror, Hybrid Continuity, Mistress of Fear, Original Flavor, Screenplay/Script Format, scarecrow: year one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3310463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illegible/pseuds/illegible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>When ravens gather it is called an unkindness. When crows meet, murder.</b>
</p><p>A bird of ill omen scatters bodies across Gotham. Each corpse bares mutilations staged to inspire terror. Rats, maggots, tributes of blade, blood, and bone. These are her signs.</p><p>At Arkham Asylum, the Scarecrow endures nights plagued by visions and memories. At Wayne Manor, Batman begins his hunt for a criminal twisted as the skeleton she wears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been years since I've written a real author's note, but to tell the story of _Batman: Dread and Panic_ without also talking about how it came to exist wouldn't be telling the whole story.
> 
> Imagine if you will a young woman in the year 2010/2011, just stepping out of the phase of life where she would have been called "girl" instead. _The Dark Knight_ movie hit like a shockwave and Batman fandom was full of activity.
> 
> I was involved in the Scarecrow fan community, and I was mainly spending time on websites like fanfiction.net and deviantart. Everyone was generating content, there was a lot of range in what that content might be. One area that was especially active focused on the idea of a "Mistress of Fear"--a term coined in _Scarecrow (Villains) #1_ by Peter Milligan. In the fan community, the term had evolved to mean a woman associated with Jonathan Crane in some significant capacity--particularly if she was used in canon. I was playing with ideas at the time, not much beyond that.
> 
> One day, I got a notification in my inbox that an artist I admired was looking for scripts.
> 
> I told her I had an idea, and that the idea didn't seem like it lent itself as much to prose. Nothing was complete yet, but how would she like to hear a pitch?
> 
> That artist goes by bobaedraws these days. Without her, this story would not exist.
> 
> Because you see bobaedraws accepted. I wrote my proposal--which was absolutely terrible, in hindsight. But bobaedraws saw some potential. We kept talking and refining the concept, and eventually it reached a point that creation could begin.
> 
> The script wouldn't be finished until early 2013. Bobaedraws and I became friends as well as collaborators. There was massive critique and education involved, a year long hiatus in-between, a lot of research and a lot of revision. I learned more from working on this story than perhaps any other creative endeavor in my life.
> 
>  _Dread and Panic_ was the first big project I finished. It isn't perfect--as an easy example, I've since learned how to direct paneling in comic script format versus leaving it all for the artist to figure out. But it's evidence of a period in my life when I really grew.
> 
>  _Dread and Panic_ is my love letter to Batman and to Scarecrow. It's the story I needed to tell, and if I tell no more stories for Batman I can rest easy knowing that this one exists.
> 
> Bobaedraws and I are still friends and we still work together, although the subjects have changed. I can't say what's in the future for this project, but after some discussion it felt like the right time to share.
> 
> If you're reading this, thank you. I hope you enjoy.

_Start with a view from above—we see HARRY emerge from a building at night. This place doesn’t look especially respectable, but doesn’t make a spectacle of itself either. HARRY himself does the same. His tie is loose, his hair is mussed, he’s not professional enough for a jacket. Maybe he’d been handsome as a young man, but forty did not go down without a fight. He’s gained a little paunch to match those age lines and gray patches._

_Notice HARRY’s expression is tight, like he has something on his mind. He walks down the street, past a chain link fence and some more graffiti-covered businesses to a parking garage. When he emerges again, it’s in an old car. Looks like he made a half-hearted effort to comb his hair back with his hands._

_There is a bikini-clad figurine sitting on the dashboard, ponytailed head nodding. HARRY glances at it, smiles thinly, then speaks._

HARRY: Moron. What do I care what some dinky school shrink thinks? Ange backed me up. Worst case scenario it’s a talk with Chris. That’s all.

BOBBLEHEAD: _[Says nothing, grinning broadly]_

HARRY: And you know, what kind of guy would I be taking lip from a seventy-something hag? She knows better. It’s been a long day. A lot of unnecessary stress— _[Expressions show he’s clearly mocking]_ “Harry, you’ve gotta stop it”, “Harry, something’s wrong with him”. Bullshit. Only thing wrong with Chris is when he decides to act like a sissy. He’s figuring out what the rules are and how to handle life’s bumps. That’s all. He’s a fine kid.

HARRY: Besides. I’m entitled to a little down time before heading home.

_For a few panels, show the car disappearing into the distance—probably from an angle or behind. There should be a bit of space after the last shot._

_Open again with HARRY at the front door of his house. 1 It appears that the block has experienced a blackout._

HARRY: _[mumbling, fumbling with his keys]_ Second time this month. Lazy bastards.

_HARRY opens the door. Inside is eerily dark and impersonal—no family photos. The couch is worn, there is a kitchen visible out of the corner of the room—probably shadowed—and the television sits lifeless. Cheap pictures adorn the walls. It looks like someone tried to arrange tasteless décor in a tasteful manner with no budget. Small candles are scattered throughout the room, glowing yellow but without helping a ton in terms of visibility. There’s an odd ticking in the background, as if from a clock._

HARRY: How long’s the blackout so far, Angela?

HARRY: Ange?

_Advancing, he shuts the door behind him and notices something on the floor. Closer inspection reveals the shredded petals of a red carnation. HARRY picks one up and inspects it—at first curious, then darkening._

HARRY: _[A scowl emerging]_ …Christ. You little bitch. _[He advances deeper into the house—down a hallway, past the occasional candle. Although there are no blatant signs besides the ticking that something is wrong, the atmosphere should be very threatening, very hostile. This can come from shadow play, lighting, faint movements with uncertain origin…basically, a definite sense of foreboding. The tension should increase as he goes.]_

HARRY: _[Shouting, but he doesn’t appear consumed by his rage exactly. Almost cocky, a sort of false amusement covering fury]_ Where’d you get these, huh?

_HARRY comes to the bedroom door, which is slightly ajar. Feature one panel showing a gloved hand catching a metronome—stopping the ticking. The petal trail continues inside. HARRY doesn’t speak, but his expression hardens. He says nothing as he proceeds._

_There is a figure with long, black hair lying mostly concealed in bed. Her body is awkward and stiff. Maggots crawl across the comforter. Dead rats in various states of mutilation are positioned around the room along with carnation blossoms and family photographs. The room is illuminated, radiating heat from a number of tiny candles that are no more effective than any we’ve seen so far. Messages carved into the wall include…_

_STOP IT! STOP IT, HE’S BLEEDING!_

_I KNOW, HARRY. YOU’RE EVERYTHING TO ME. I’M SO SORRY._

_CARNATIONS ALWAYS WERE MY FAVORITE._

_THEY HAVEN’T CALLED IN MONTHS._

_NO! PLEASE NO! I DO LOVE YOU, I WON’T SAY IT AGAIN JUST DON’T DAD PLEASE!_

_I’LL BE BETTER. I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER._

_MOM…MOM HELP…MOM HELP…_

_CAN’T WE GO AWAY SOMEWHERE?_

_As HARRY approaches the figure on the bed—probably looking pretty unnerved by now—we as readers can clearly see under the covers (HARRY can’t) that it is a mannequin. Her face is frozen in a lifeless smile. HARRY reaches for the comforter. Meanwhile, part of the background—a pair of “candles” (eyes)—shift in such a way that partially reveals the form of the RAVEN MOCKER. She should have been present in the previous panel(s), but not in a manner that she would be clearly identifiable or draw attention to herself. When she moves, it should be extremely uncanny._

HARRY: _[Glances back for a moment. His eyes widen.]_ Oh fuck. _[He straightens—tries to back away but is inevitably stabbed in the stomach by the RAVEN MOCKER. When he falls to the ground, it is towards her.]_

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Steps back a little to remove contact, crouches/kneels in front of HARRY as he lies wheezing, then cocks her head in a very avian manner. When she speaks the font should probably be chicken scratch.]_ I can’t hear you.

HARRY: _[Shocked, bleeding, the realization that he’s going to be killed tonight sinking in but her words don’t register]_ W-What?...

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Grabs his hair very quickly and jerks HARRY’s head back with one hand—making him cry out. Her other hand (bone-cane attached by a thin strap around her wrist) holds a knife angled towards his throat. She appears calculating.]_ Like you really mean it now.

_HARRY starts to scream just before she stabs hard into the side of his neck. 2 This should be one image of her moving in, then black space with sound effects arranged as you think will be most effective.3 These should pertain to sawing through flesh/scraping bone, perhaps some thrashing and/or gurgling…the noises diminish gradually, perhaps with the background reddening and perhaps not._

_Open up with a computer-lit picture of HARRY positioned on the bed next to the exposed mannequin, his head all but severed. The RAVEN MOCKER seems to have had a bit of trouble with his spine, and so left it propped against a pillow. HARRY’s tie was loosened in the course of this adventure, his shirt is messier, and his hair is worse for the wear again. Not one of his best days. His expression is rather impressive._

_Pull back a little to see a similar (also computer-lit) scene featuring the corpse of a thirty-something-year-old woman, eyes notably absent, suspended by both wrists over a series of newspaper clippings. The blood from aforementioned empty eye-sockets drips down her suit and has left a small puddle beneath her. There’s another shot featuring a late gang leader (somewhere in his twenties) with his arms and hands having been mostly stripped of flesh, gun held suggestively between his legs by mutilated hands. There may be bullets and chains along with the RAVEN MOCKER’s usual fare of maggots/rats. The fourth picture features a drug manufacturer riddled with needles—tongue included. There is a lot of broken glass scattered about the victim, who’s lying on the floor._

BATMAN (OP): Notice any trends?

ALFRED (OP): It would appear that somebody left quite the mess for you to clean up.

_Pull back again to reveal the Batcave, 4 BATMAN sitting in front of his massive computer upon which the images are displayed (along with JAY AVERY5 and a few photos at the side of the nine women he’s killed, none of whom should be the main focus) There are text boxes connecting with each image, though the lettering may not be clear to readers. ALFRED is a little to BATMAN’s right._

BATMAN: Each scene must have taken hours to prepare. Several days, if not weeks, to gather information to use against each target.

ALFRED: _[Thoughtfully]_ Yet he never saw fit to inform—

BATMAN: She. The wife and son of Harry Mitchell were found stuffed in a closet together with minor injuries. Both reported their attacker was female, utilizing skeletal and corvid motifs.

BATMAN: _[Stands, frowning/glaring at the screen while ALFRED raises an eyebrow]_ This isn’t about the law. These murders were set up to inspire fear in the victims and set an example. Mitchell would have died long before she got close to decapitating him that way.

ALFRED: _[As BATMAN walks to the workstation, where he picks up his utility belt and puts it on]_ …What exactly are you proposing, sir? Jonathan Crane is secure at Arkham. It seems unlikely that he would enlist, let alone continuously direct, any new associates from there.

BATMAN: _[Replenishing his supply of batarangs]_ Arkham poses little obstacle when the inmates have a plan to execute. There are always staff members susceptible to persuasion.

ALFRED: You’re thinking of Dr. Quinzel.

BATMAN: She’s crossed my mind.

ALFRED: _[Dryly]_ Comforting to remember that Scarecrow’s abilities would appear to lie in other areas.

BATMAN: _[Looks up at ALFRED, stone-faced]_ He’s still a master of manipulation. If one method doesn’t get what he wants, he’ll use another.

ALFRED: _[Proffering the Batmobile key]_ I take it you intend on exploring this theory with a visit to our local asylum, then.

BATMAN: _[Takes the key]_ Thanks Alfred. _[Gets into the Batmobile, takes off in his usual dramatic fashion]_ Hopefully I’m wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 You get to decide how much is shown, but the Mitchell family is on the lower end of middle class.
> 
> 2 If dialogue is needed, “Stop! Stop, get that fucking thing away from me you freak, I swear I’ll—“
> 
> 3 Like Psycho, no visible penetration.
> 
> 4 While I think the cave overall is going to be left up to you, I do think its purpose is very much practical for this Batsy. So no dinosaurs or giant pennies, but it wouldn’t be shocking to find a Catwoman whip, chemistry set, bang-gun, Riddler puzzle, etc. being stored somewhere. Less about trophies, more about evidence and efficiency.
> 
> 5 A serial killer with stringy blond hair and a weak chin.


	2. Chapter 2

_Cut to the exterior of Arkham Asylum—home to the more insane among Gotham’s citizens. It was not designed to be a prison or castle. The main gate is wrought iron, and there are still traces of a nineteenth century mansion here and there… but the strongest impression really is that of a mental hospital. A formidable, somewhat foreboding mental hospital._

LELAND (OP): You can’t keep doing this to them.

_We shift to the halls of Arkham, which are dull white and beige made brighter by fluorescent lighting. The most dangerous inmates do not have privacy—a transparent door, similarly dull cells equipped with a single bed, sink, nightstand, and toilet each. Some of them have books and markers. 6 The occasional uniformed orderly or group of uniformed orderlies7 wanders by—primarily men, though there are some very tough looking women there too. One of these orderlies is accompanying BATMAN and DOCTOR LELAND to JONATHAN’s cell. LELAND wears her white coat over a blue shirt and black slacks, appearing professional but accessible…except for the fact that she’s agitated. Tense, very annoyed at BATMAN’s presence. She’s not the sort of woman to outright glare, but her displeasure is apparent._

BATMAN: If Crane has any information related to the current string of—

LELAND: He doesn’t. One of our orderlies was careless enough to discuss the murders in front of him. It shouldn’t surprise you that his reaction was far from positive.

BATMAN: What do you mean?

LELAND: _[Exasperated]_ Jonathan is highly averse to birds. The idea of a murderous “Raven Mocker”, as he called it, only exacerbated his condition.

BATMAN: How so?

LELAND: Toxin related flashbacks. Hallucinations. Nightmares. We’re planning to adjust his medication again soon.

_They arrive outside JONATHAN’s cell—inside which he is lying on his bed, reading “Frankenstein”. LELAND goes to a keypad by the door and begins entering a series of numbers._

LELAND: Try not to upset him. _[Having entered the combination, she inserts a keycard and the barrier opens.]_

_JONATHAN looks up as BATMAN and LELAND step inside—the orderly waiting with his own keycard by the panel. LELAND remains towards the back of the room, supervising while BATMAN advances._

JONATHAN: _[Glares, but one gets the impression it’s more irritation at having his reading interrupted than hatred for this particular visitor. His expression is shadowed, however, by obvious signs of exhaustion—posture, dark circles, etc. After a beat, he closes his book and sits up]_ Did you want something?

BATMAN: What do you know about the Raven Mocker?

JONATHAN: _[Still irritable]_ Raven Mockers. They’re creatures from Native American mythology, specialized in tormenting and killing the weak. Most people can’t see them. You’re usually much better about research than—

BATMAN: _[Grabs JONATHAN by the shoulders—roughly, but aiming to scare more than injure]_ The Raven Mocker, Crane. She’s using your theme.

LELAND: Batman!

JONATHAN: _[Peeved]_ She’s not mine. Do you honestly think I’d still be here if I had an ally on the outside?

BATMAN: You’re waiting for something.

JONATHAN: I’m reading a book. Stop being paranoid.

BATMAN: You knew what she was.

JONATHAN: _[Very dryly]_ Of course. I _am_ the master of fear. 

BATMAN: _[Growls, tightening his grip]_ **Crane.**

JONATHAN: _[Snapping]_ What do you expect, Batman? A confession? If you object to somebody being inspired by my work then take it up with them. Frankly, I couldn’t care less.

LELAND: _[Sharply]_ That’s enough.

BATMAN: _[Releasing JONATHAN, addresses LELAND]_ Watch him closely.

LELAND: I always do. Now get out.

JONATHAN: _[Rubbing his shoulders absently, glares after the retreating BATMAN—ignoring LELAND’s expression of concern altogether. They leave after the door opens, and we turn to see Jonathan alone in his cell. At first sitting upright with the book in his lap (defiant), he seems to decide it’s not worth the effort and simply leans against the wall.]_

_Cut back to BATMAN and LELAND, once again in the hallway being followed by the orderly._

BATMAN: _[After a while]_ His behavior has been unusual, correct?

LELAND: _[Scowling]_ Not exactly. Jonathan fixates—he can’t let negative ideas go once they get inside his head. It upsets him because they’re often irrational.

BATMAN: Irrational how?

LELAND: Without basis in reality. _[More earnestly]_ It doesn’t matter how much evidence there is…

_Show the hallway from a new angle, possibly something that plays with perspective. The lights are out in this shot, shadows loom, and in the distance a guard is making rounds with his flashlight._

LELAND (OP): …a mind ruled by “what if” breeds fear.

_Shift past one or two cells with sleeping inmates before focusing on JONATHAN again. His bed is disturbed, though he himself stands in front of the glass. Damp with sweat. He keeps some distance from the panel, hands clenched nervously at his side. His expression is forced neutral. We don’t see what he’s looking at. A faint tap-tapping approaches, and Jonathan turns to the right—chewing his lip. The sound gets louder and he leans forward, putting one hand on the glass._

_Change views to show the guard walk right past the RAVEN MOCKER, who has been standing outside this whole time. His pace doesn’t slow, his attention doesn’t waver. For her part, the RAVEN MOCKER is leaning slightly on her bone-canes, gaze fixed on JONATHAN. As the guard passes from view (the tapping fading with distance), JONATHAN turns his attention back to her. She continues staring, eerily still and expressionless._

_JONATHAN looks to the left, and we see that the guard still hasn’t reacted in any way. There is a brief flashback panel full of crows. We see the RAVEN MOCKER up close for a panel before another (more nightmarish) vision of crows. Close up on one bone-cane where it meets the floor, then shift to a flashback of GRANNY KEENY raising her own cane to strike. We see GRANNY KEENY come down once, twice, a third time with JONATHAN 8 kneeling at her feet, doubled over, hands clutching her skirt desperately. In the present JONATHAN’s mouth opens slightly as though he’s trying to focus on his breathing. Flashback to somebody punching him in the stomach as a teen, then use another few partial shots to show him being tied to a pole scarecrow-style by BO GRIGGS (who looks pretty satisfied with himself). Show a profile of the RAVEN MOCKER, then do another flashback to SHERRY SQUIRES smirking mischievously before her expression stretches into a malicious grin. Her skull caves in. Blood pours from the wound, her eyes, off her tongue. The smile remains._

_JONATHAN begins to laugh quietly, gaining volume and hysteria as he goes. The RAVEN MOCKER doesn’t move as he sinks to his knees against the glass, 9 chuckling to himself with one hand covering his face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 Feel free to give a few background cameos as you’d like, but keep in mind there will be a scene at the Iceberg later and rogues shown here probably wouldn’t be shown there. I suspect Joker is locked up for sure; Harley depends on whether she’s currently hanging with him or Pam.
> 
> 7 Orderlies do wear billed hats, or at least a few of them do.
> 
> 8 Age twelve.
> 
> 9 Similar to his positioning with Granny Keeny.


	3. Chapter 3

_Cut to LELAND’s office door._

JONATHAN (OP): She was here last night.

_Move inside, and we see JONATHAN sitting upright on a couch across from LELAND. The décor is modern—primarily browns, blacks, and whites. Abstract paintings dot the walls, a computer sits on her desk, and a fan spins overhead. If we can see out the window, the weather over Gotham is overcast. As a really minor detail, LELAND is most likely dressed differently today. Insofar as expressions are concerned she’s composed here. JONATHAN is still tired, which he masks in the directness of his attention toward LELAND._

LELAND: A two-day gap since last time.

JONATHAN: _[Firmly, but without apparent hostility]_ I want to examine the security footage.

LELAND: Jonathan, we’ve been through this already.

JONATHAN: I need to see it myself.

LELAND: Do you honestly think I’m not reviewing every episode? Nothing happened. Your own studies have proven that untreated exposure to fear toxin can still provoke—

JONATHAN: It isn’t a hallucination, Joan.

LELAND: _[Sighs, rubbing her temples with one hand]_ You’re not allowed to view security footage. Greene would have a fit.

JONATHAN: Make an exception.

LELAND: _[Looks at him with unmasked skepticism, remaining mute]_

JONATHAN: _[Glances away. Grudgingly]_ If this is in my head, I… may start the sleeping medications you suggested.

LELAND: _[Unimpressed]_

JONATHAN: _[Shifts attention to his knees, fidgeting with both hands]_ Your other recommendations, I’ll consider.

LELAND: Jonathan, I’m not about to—

JONATHAN: _[Quietly desperate and ashamed of being desperate]_ Please.

LELAND: _[There is a silence and her mouth makes a thin line as she considers. Eventually, LELAND speaks]_ It only shows what happens outside the cells.

_Use static in the transition, then show a screen being fast-forwarded. In the lower right hand corner are the date and time (October 7th, 2013—various times beginning at 10:34pm and getting progressively later past midnight until perhaps 5:51am), with the guard changing positions/disappearing as he makes his rounds. Cut to a single shot of JONATHAN’s face, which is a barely restrained combination of horror and despair. Pull back to show LELAND standing next to him in front of her desktop 10 while a man from surveillance (not someone we’ll meet later…lets call him DAN) stands vaguely near the door. LELAND watches in silence. Stoic. She ejects the disc and hands it to DAN._

LELAND: _[Softly]_ Thank you, Daniel.

_He nods curtly and leaves._

_LELAND walks back to JONATHAN, who hasn’t moved but appears utterly defeated. His eyes are closed, his head is bowed, his shoulders are slumped. Preferably without showing facial expressions, we see LELAND put a hand on JONATHAN’s shoulder. He doesn’t protest._

_Cut to the RAVEN MOCKER’s apartment. We see it from outside first (á la the opening to Psycho)—this is a brick building designed for practicality. A fire escape clings to the wall and some rooms seem to be jutting out air conditioners. The bordering alleyway with its trash cans and graffiti—not especially ornate here—may or may not be visible._

_There is a loud SNAP!_

_Zoom in through a window to the RAVEN MOCKER’s room. The walls are a burnt-orange color, the floor dark wood, the furniture highly eclectic. She owns a beanbag chair, a lamp with black spiral decorations all over the shade, a bust of Athena, posters for some rock bands, 11 a worse-for-the-wear stuffed rabbit, an overflowing laundry basket, a medium-sized speaker set, a desk12 and dresser13 that don’t match, plus a mini-fridge.14 Perhaps among other things. If her bed is visible it’s not made and has her laptop resting on it._

_The RAVEN MOCKER herself bends slightly over her desk in full costume, back to the viewer, picking up a large knife 15 with her right hand while the left supports her against the table. There is a dead rat (broken neck) partially visible in front of her._

_Shift focus to the television. SUMMER GLEESON is reporting on a dark street in front of a crime scene, which is in turn lined off by police tape. SUMMER has her hair pulled back with a tight auburn ponytail and wears a beige suit. There are cracking, crunching and squelching noises in the background as the RAVEN MOCKER works._

SUMMER: —family expressed outrage in response to this tenth murder by serial killer Jay Avery.

_Shift to see the RAVEN MOCKER from a closer, clearer angle. She has an ironic smile on her face amidst continued sound effects._

VICTIM’S MOTHER (OP): Where were the police? Where was the Batman? If they’d only done their jobs and collected this monster from the beginning Samantha might still…

_Shift to screen again, where the VICTIM’S MOTHER (a squat, curly haired brunette of sixty or so) turns from the camera in front of her house—a hand covering her mouth and eyes clenched shut as tears roll down both cheeks. Her HUSBAND (who is about the same age—taller, with much more gray than brown in his hair and a neat beard/mustache) puts an arm over her shoulder and steers her inside. The anguish on his face in that instant is subtle. The door closes and the screen shifts back to SUMMER._

SUMMER: Commissioner Gordon was not available for comment, but Detective Harvey Bullock of the GCPD assured us that locating and apprehending Avery is a top priority for the force.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[We can see now that she’s wearing a pair of bloodstained medical gloves—holding a remote and pressing the power button as the television goes dark]_ Huh.

_There is a brief pause, and the RAVEN MOCKER looks to her now unpleasantly dirty remote. Of course her mask doesn’t change expression, but the frown crossing her lips/body language is fairly mortified. She shifts her grip to the sides of the remote as if that will lessen the damage somehow, glances around uncertainly, then gives up and sets it on top of the mini-fridge 16 near her usual gloves._

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Wanders back to her desk, leans there for a moment, then begins to quote wryly]_ One for sorrow.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Picks up the fairly destroyed body of the rat, shoves it into a gory pouch with other rats. Opening the box of maggots, she uses a small shovel and pours some into a similar pouch]_ Two for joy.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Pulls both pouches shut and ties them against her hip. Closes the box, looks to the ceiling absently while pulling her gloves off. Tossing them just as absently into the trash bin.]_ Three for a girl.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Picks up the still-sealed rat bags, opens the mini-fridge (which already contains several very dead crows—no rodents, suggesting she’s restocking) and places them inside. Putting on her usual gloves.]_ And four for a boy. 

_Sighing, the RAVEN MOCKER slips her hands through the loops that attach her bone canes to her wrists, uses them to walk to the window and climb out._

RAVEN MOCKER (Descending, OP): Fucking Gotham.

_Cut to the interior of the Iceberg Lounge. It is a busy club utilizing a black, white, and blue color scheme. The atmosphere is dark, smoky, loud—strobe-lit with glass incorporated alongside ice into the décor. The crowd is mixed. Besides a few civilians with connections there are off-duty henchmen, thugs, con-artists, mobsters, prostitutes, and of course rogues. 17 PENGUIN’s staff are dressed in modified tuxedoes, his logo most prominently displayed above the bar in blue neon. Some people are dancing, some are drinking, some are chatting in booths, some are getting intimate._

_The ceiling in this room is about two stories high. Walls are ringed in one-way mirrors toward the top, the reflective surface facing customers. We approach a single set of panels in particular, then switch perspectives to the inside of the room with a close up of PENGUIN smoking a cigar. Pull back somewhat and we see the man in his entirety, looking down at the crowd through what appears to be a normal window. 18 He wears a tuxedo himself, purely black and white with his hair slicked back and a monocle in place. Behind him the room is more businesslike, utilizing subdued blue, gray, and black hues. The furniture is traditional in style—a desk complete with leather chair and expensive computer, a glass display of umbrella guns/swords, a sculpture of Leda and the Swan. A magpie perches in its cage near the desk._

BATMAN (OP): Cobblepot.

_PENGUIN smirks, and turns towards the far corner of the office._

PENGUIN: It is terribly inconsiderate of you to keep showing up without an appointment. I’m a busy man this time of year.

_Shift to reveal BATMAN glaring at PENGUIN, stepping forward from a patch of darkness._

BATMAN: There’s a new killer on the loose. I need any information you can provide.

PENGUIN: _[Sardonically]_ You’ll need to be more specific than that, Batman. There are always new killers on the loose these days.

BATMAN: She’s taken up the theme of “Raven Mocker”. Incorporates dead animals and psychological warfare into her crimes. Appears avian.

PENGUIN: And why should I know someone like that? On principle? _[Takes a slow drag of his cigar, exhaling towards Batman]_ If she can contribute nothing of value to this establishment, there’s really no point in admitting her.

BATMAN: Instances of theft occasionally accompany the murders. It’s likely she’ll attempt to sell something.

PENGUIN: _[Lightly]_ Nothing of that sort has come up. _[Ambles to the magpie’s cage, where it cocks its head curiously]_ You are correct in assuming beginner rogues seek status verification here. There is a glamour to this lifestyle, if one proves oneself deserving.

PENGUIN: _[Bending forward, examining the magpie thoughtfully as it preens]_ I would imagine whatever your murderess requires money for, joining our community is not her chief ambition.

BATMAN: Has there been talk?

PENGUIN: Do I look like a gossip to you? _[Straightens, sighing]_ The gallery has better things to do than concern itself with potential members.

BATMAN (OP): Such as illegal weapons sales.

PENGUIN stiffens.

PENGUIN: _[Turning with a scowl]_ And what evidence would you have regarding—

The room is now empty of BATMAN.

PENGUIN: Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 My reasoning is that bringing Jonathan to the security room would allow him some idea of where the cameras are directed throughout the building/allow him more variables for his advantage/generally be an uh-oh. So the footage was brought in.
> 
> 11 Bonus if one of them is called Ares Twins.
> 
> 12 For villainy—she has it covered in garbage bags and several clearly dead rats, most of which are sealed in Ziplocs. There is also a covered box containing maggots, and a cage of live rats on the floor nearby (implying she kills them before mutilating them).
> 
> 13 She has a television playing on the dresser, a simple mirror above it, and a few books scattered about.
> 
> 14 A sticky note on the mini fridge reads “LEFTOVERS” Also; she has her Gaga-gloves stored on top of aforementioned mini-fridge and her bone-canes leaning against it.
> 
> 15 Probably a butcher’s knife rather than one she uses on her victims.
> 
> 16 She’ll need to use either furniture or a cane for support here. Or else the mini-fridge is close enough that she won’t need to move much.
> 
> 17 Definitely a bunch of rookies, but this is a great chance to give cameos to big name villains too!
> 
> 18 But is of course the flipside of a mirror.


	4. Chapter 4

_Transition to a close up of JONATHAN’s eyes as he sleeps on his side. Blood has been trickling down his temple in thin beads (dripping from above) for some time. Using the same shot, we see him grimace and then wake up. 19 Without moving, he glances around in some confusion before another drop falls and slides dangerously close to his mouth. At this JONATHAN rises to a sitting position and takes his glasses off the nightstand before looking up. His eyes widen and he stops breathing. Shift to show a close-up of a mutilated raven20 looming over him, suspended by twine from the ceiling. Maggots squirm and fall from JONATHAN’s head to his shoulders, though he’s initially too focused on the bird to notice. When he realizes, JONATHAN stumbles out of bed—brushing at himself almost frantically. Maggots fall out of his pajamas and writhe on the floor. Shaking, he turns to the opposite wall and sees another raven nailed to it, dead eyes trained on him. JONATHAN is looking rather panicked at this point, backing away only to find another two ravens (sewn together) when he meets that side of the room._

JONATHAN: _[Terrified]_ No! No, this isn’t…this is-isn’t… _[He reaches for the end of his bed for support and fumbles/stumbles due to his trembling]_ N-nn… _[Closes his eyes, taking a few shuddering breaths. Eventually (still obviously shaken) he opens his eyes once more and turns to the back wall. 21]_

 _Pull back so that the view is from the hall, through the transparent panel with everything encompassed. JONATHAN’s (and the reader’s) attention is directed to the back wall where “FOUR IS FOR DEATH” has been carved. 22_

_Cut to a close up of a knife, then pull back to show ALFRED holding it as he slices through some melon in the Wayne Manor kitchen. BRUCE sits wearing a collared shirt, dark slacks, and shoes at a table beyond the counter where ALFRED is preparing brunch. Toast and eggs are already on the plate. This room has a color scheme of primarily creams and browns (traditional décor—think almost Victorian level class, not opulent but elegant) with rain beyond wide windows. This gives a faintly grayish cast to the scene._

BRUCE: _[Chin propped up on both hands, frowning thoughtfully as he stares out the window]_ They’ve started questioning the staff at Arkham.

ALFRED: _[Without looking up]_ Reassuring to hear they’re making some attempt at productivity. Have they succeeded in identifying the vandal yet?

BRUCE: _[Shuts his eyes, inclining his head. Brooding]_ A guard and surveillance monitor have disappeared. Various sources suggest they were present for at least part of the breach.

ALFRED: _[Puts down the knife and pours a cup of coffee]_ I don’t suppose our friends at the GCPD are aware of the situation.

BRUCE: Sharp doesn’t want any information getting out. There’s a chance that Walsh and Simmons were behind it themselves, using Crane’s illness to exact Lockup’s kind of justice.

ALFRED: Walsh and Simmons being the misplaced security personnel?

BRUCE: Yes.

ALFRED: I see. _[Sets the coffee and brunch plate on a tray and brings it to the table, placing everything in front of BRUCE]_ And what do you think?

BRUCE: Possible, but unlikely. _[Takes a sip of coffee, wincing at the heat]_ Any known Bolton sympathizers were fired once word of the violence got out. More likely that they were acting as accomplices.

ALFRED: But accomplices to whom?

BRUCE: Possibly Crane. He’s being transferred to a more private cell until the damage has been repaired and any human errors patched over. It would be characteristic of him to attempt something…with assistance or otherwise.

ALFRED: _[Folding his arms]_ Do you really think a man plagued by ornithophobia would deliberately surround himself by birds?

BRUCE: _[Scowls]_ Crane hates being controlled. Personal fears are no exception, especially if utilizing them serves his purpose. If he’s planning something—

ALFRED: Forgive me for playing devil’s advocate Master Bruce, but it sounds very much like you _want_ him to be planning something.

_BRUCE doesn’t answer, looking sullen._

ALFRED: Is there a reason the notion of somebody harassing your enemies seems so unreasonable? 

BRUCE: The Scarecrow isn’t a victim, Alfred. He dedicates his life to spreading terror through this city.

ALFRED: As do you, after a fashion. Keep in mind that the Scarecrow is also a man when not causing untold atrocities across Gotham.

BRUCE: He is relentless.

ALFRED: _Batman_ is relentless. If someone like you can have moments of weakness, why shouldn’t he?

BRUCE: I don’t prey on the innocent. _[Takes a bite of toast, swallows]_ Not everybody with childhood trauma becomes a sociopath.

ALFRED: And not everybody has a devoted butler to serve them brunch. You are really quite fortunate in some ways.

BRUCE: _[Smiles faintly, briefly]_ I’m aware of that. _[Moves to the coffee again and sips without pain. When he continues, he’s stoic once more]_ I’ve already begun to gather information on the missing staff. Regardless of circumstances, they should have information crucial to identifying the culprit.

ALFRED: And if that culprit happens to be the Raven Mocker?

_Pull back the shot—how is up to you. Something reflecting the window and rain while still keeping BRUCE and ALFRED visible could be interesting, but feel free to do something completely different if you’d like._

BRUCE: I’ll take care of it.

_Cutting to Arkham Asylum, there should be one transition panel—maybe another rain-inclusive shot sans BRUCE and ALFRED, focusing purely on glass and water. The background is vague, grayish. In a second panel from the same angle, there should be slightly more focus on the scene inside the building, revealing two hazy figures—LELAND and JONATHAN. LELAND is sitting by the couch again while JONATHAN paces her office. The furniture remains indistinct here, but readers should recognize the location as no longer Wayne Manor._

LELAND: Sit down, Jonathan.

_Move inside to display everything clearly. JONATHAN, stationed foreground, pauses to rest his hand on a small bookshelf—ignoring LELAND to skim the titles contained therein. His mind seems very much elsewhere, but there’s an undercurrent of anxiety to everything he does._

LELAND: You’re only working yourself up.

JONATHAN: _[Closes his eyes, inclines his head, clenches his hand]_ And isn’t that unreasonable.

LELAND: We’re doing everything we can to—

JONATHAN: _[Harshly, but without raising his voice. Confronting LELAND]_ I thought you did everything last time, Joan. By all means do tell me where your resources have been spent if not making sure security doesn’t abus—

LELAND: _[Quickly puts down the clipboard and stands. Her tone/body language is stern]_ We’re doing everything we can to ensure your safety. Sit down.

JONATHAN: _[Stares for a moment in surprise before shifting to something more neutral. He doesn’t obey but briskly turns from LELAND, approaching the window]_ Take me off the sleeping pills.

LELAND: I’m not letting anyone break into your cell again.

JONATHAN: _[Lips quirking, humorless]_ A nice enough offer, but you’re in no position to back it up. Take me off the sleeping pills.

LELAND: You aren’t healthy.

JONATHAN: _[Touches the window thoughtfully, a gesture harkening back to his previous interaction with the RAVEN MOCKER]_ Someone is making threats against my life. I can always rest when I’m dead. At this point my preference errs toward survival. _[Looking back sharply at LELAND (and the viewer)]_ Tell me that’s insane.

LELAND: No. _[Sighs, rubs the bridge of her nose, then walks forward. Resigned.]_ No, that makes sense. _[JONATHAN watches her progress but doesn’t comment. Stopping beside him, LELAND’s expression is joyless]_ I just wish you could trust us.

JONATHAN: _[Turns back to the window, his words and expression serious. LELAND should still be visible with him.]_ Then make it an option.

_Repeat the shot several times, the panel becoming uncannily blurrier as it goes 23… with a faint tapping growing louder alongside the images._

LELAND/??? (OP): _[In a seriously creepy, distorted final picture surrounded by tapping]_ I’m sorry.

_Open up again in JONATHAN’s new cell. This one has a solid door with its own small, plexiglass window but is about as sparse as the last. The angle should include both the aforementioned door and JONATHAN, apparently asleep in bed with an open book. Like he couldn’t help passing out after all. The tapping continues steadily, growing louder…but never quite louder than footsteps._

_After a while, the noise ceases. JONATHAN doesn’t react. More tapping as somebody stops outside the door. A series of clicks. JONATHAN doesn’t stir. Rattling. The door opens slightly, silently._

_The RAVEN MOCKER slips inside, yellow eyes prominent against her surroundings. She reads as feral. Inhuman. It will take at least two panels for her to fully enter the room—the first showing only her head, one arm/cane, and part of her torso._

_Shift to the RAVEN MOCKER’s POV, yellow-tinted, possibly with a slight fishbowl effect. We see JONATHAN still unconscious on the bed, and advance toward him. Arriving within an arm’s reach, the RAVEN MOCKER appears to hesitate. We have a clear view of JONATHAN here. He looks very normal. The RAVEN MOCKER glances away momentarily to draw a knife but looks back before completing the act. Her target’s position hasn’t changed, but his eyes are very clearly open now._

_JONATHAN lunges at us/the RAVEN MOCKER._

_Shift into third person POV again to show the attack. JONATHAN has grabbed her right wrist, pushing the fully exposed knife away from him. The RAVEN MOCKER’s left leg is back as she staggers, JONATHAN clearly succeeding in pushing her off-balance (unsupported by her canes). They both fall to the ground, JONATHAN keeping her knife hand pinned while his right hand goes for her throat._

_The RAVEN MOCKER snarls and digs the nails of her left hand into JONATHAN’s right wrist, dragging the threatening limb away with some difficulty while her legs scramble against the floor. She succeeds in hitting the trigger that springs “talons” from her shoes. Bucking her spine hard against the floor while JONATHAN grabs at her face (fingers curling around the corner of her mask), she maneuvers a leg up to her torso and drags across his stomach. 24 JONATHAN throws himself sideways—freeing the RAVEN MOCKER’s knife but tearing the mask off her face roughly. He doesn’t hold onto it, needing to maintain his own balance. The mask lands on the floor but is not damaged and remains in reach of its owner._

_We shift to JONATHAN—without a clear view of the RAVEN MOCKER. He’s bleeding, clutching his injury, gaze trained on her. Wide-eyed in shock and pain, breathing through his mouth._

_Shift again to show BECKY ALBRIGHT pushing herself up. Several pins have come loose in the unmasking, exposing her as furious and disheveled. It’s likely she’s even baring teeth here._

_Show a series of flashback panels. BECKY defying JONATHAN in the courtroom. SCARECROW standing over BECKY with satisfaction as she sobs, her dead dog sprawled before them. 25 BECKY fleeing and stumbling down a train aisle while SCARECROW pursues in malicious delight. SCARECROW tracing a finger down BECKY’s throat casually, her expression one of complete toxin-induced terror. BECKY screaming on the floor of a tunnel at SCARECROW’s feet, unable to cry or even attempt escape. BECKY viewed from a hospital hall through an open door, smiling sadly at her knees where they rest under a blanket.26 BECKY shouting at SCARECROW on a rooftop after he asks her to be his Mistress of Fear.27_

JONATHAN (OP): B…Becky?

_BECKY latches onto her mask with her right hand (still holding the knife—clutching two objects simultaneously) and pulls it back. She gets to her feet awkwardly, hastily, while JONATHAN does the same. BECKY makes for the door. JONATHAN staggers after and tries to grab her, earning a sharp elbow to the stomach for his efforts. He doubles over. BECKY slips outside, but JONATHAN manages to lurch forward and wedge his foot/one shoulder through the crack before she can seal him in. BECKY throws her weight against the door to no avail._

BECKY: _[Snapping]_ Go to hell!

JONATHAN: _[Delivers a very impressive glare. Still winded]_ Later. Wh—

_BECKY leans forward slightly then hurls herself back again. JONATHAN pushing against the door comes forward a little only to have the door slam back into his head. He winces, but doesn’t lose his footing. BECKY takes advantage of his brief disorientation to flee._

_Pull back to show a close up on a dead guard (throat slit) further down the hall from JONATHAN’s room. This shouldn’t take up the entire shot—beyond our lovely corpse BECKY is rushing down the hall (canes tapping rapidly) while JONATHAN emerges and limps in pursuit. 28_

_Cut from the final shot to a moment of blackness._

SECURITY PERSONEL (OP): Hello?29

SECURITY PERSONEL (OP): Is anybody out there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 Gazing straight ahead, as if at the reader.
> 
> 20 All of the ravens in this room should be butchered in such a way that deliberately invokes the uncanny valley as much as possible.
> 
> 21 Originally I was going to say you get to figure out precisely where all the furniture in Jonathan’s cell would be, but then I realized that for this scene to work in an effective manner the bed will need to be positioned parallel to the panel—probably with the headboard (if Arkham beds even have them) against the left or right wall.
> 
> 22 Splash page or not is up to you.
> 
> 23 I’m thinking faces fading out, backgrounds slightly distorted…that sort of thing.
> 
> 24 There isn’t as much force behind this as there’d normally be due to Becky’s messed up lower body. The injury will hurt like hell but Jonathan can probably evade more serious damage by moving and getting medical attention from a back alley doctor. Or something.
> 
> 25 There will need to be different outfits for the courtroom scene (probably a suit), the dog scene at Becky’s old house (casual), the train scene (casual), the hospital scene (hospital gown), and the rooftop scene (casual). Everything between the train and tunnel is one outfit. 
> 
> 26 At some point Jonathan overheard a conversation between Becky and her doctor in the hospital. This is a little before or after that moment. If you want to sneak Jonathan into the shot somewhere with his stalkeriffic stolen janitor’s outfit (since he did witness this) by all means go for it. Just keep in mind that Becky is the center of this shot, and the tone should be serious. 
> 
> 27 Cue mood whiplash with the hideous MoF outfit. Poor, poor Jonathan.
> 
> 28 Jonathan and Becky head away from the guard, seen from behind by readers. Also, I think this shot should play with shadows—whether by shifting Jonathan and Becky into silhouettes or just messing with how light/darkness hits their bodies.
> 
> 29 This should be a somewhat computerized looking font—like it’s coming from a walkie-talkie or something.


	5. Chapter 5

_Open up again on the steps of Arkham Asylum. It’s still dark out. There are police officers and paramedics rushing about (possibly removing bodies), illuminated by sirens from the ambulance/cop cars parked nearby. There are a couple of security guards being questioned. LELAND has hauled herself out of bed to help however she can, giving information to detective HARVEY BULLOCK. 30 This is all background. Our focus is on JIM GORDON, hands in his pockets, file under his arm, gaze downcast, expression grim._

BATMAN (OP): Jim.

GORDON: _[Focus on his face as he glances up towards BATMAN/the reader]_ Tell me what you know.

_Pull back and adjust the angle slightly, so we can see BATMAN addressing GORDON. Most cops look ill at ease with BATMAN, but they don’t comment and continue with their work. QUINCY SHARP may get a background cameo somewhere, talking to RENEE MONTOYA irritably._

BATMAN: It’s the Raven Mocker’s work. Walsh and Simmons accepted bribes to cooperate during break-ins. Simmons altered video footage. Walsh obtained access to Crane’s cell, otherwise ignoring unusual activity.

BATMAN: They all knew security would tighten after last night’s vandalism, so odds are the Raven Mocker never left. Stayed hidden all day then used surprise to her advantage.

GORDON: _[Not making eye contact]_ She took out Simmons’ replacement. Three guards too.

BATMAN: What’s in the file?

GORDON: _[Shifts his weight, looks at BATMAN again before handing the file to him]_ She didn’t turn off the cameras properly. There was a scuffle between her and Crane. They’re both out now.

BATMAN: I know. _[Opens the folder. Stiffens.]_

GORDON: He must have torn her mask off. Albr—

BATMAN: **Why?**

GORDON: _[sighs, reaches into his pocket, takes out a box of cigarettes. Removes and lights one]_

_Shift to the picture as BATMAN slides it from the folder. It’s a still of BECKY hurrying down the hall, several strands of hair falling loose. A clear shot, if awkward. She’s glancing over her shoulder, mouth open, expression somewhere between very angry and very scared._

GORDON (OP): Why anyone?

_Cut to the real BECKY, who is looking up towards the viewer/a lit motel sign. She has a very large rolling suitcase and backpack while still requiring her cane—giving a tense, overwhelmed appearance. Shift down and behind so we can see her walk into the Star Motel. It’s a dumpy looking, dull brick building. In the background it’s still dark, but a lighter shade of blue that signals morning should arrive in an hour or two. The door has a sign reading “Hello there” on it, and the man at the desk (sketchy and unpleasant looking) smiles at BECKY as she approaches. We see rather than hear them discuss, then the man gestures for BECKY to follow him._

_Shift to BECKY’s hand inserting and turning the key in the door of room 042. The door opens and we see BECKY from inside the room silhouetted on the threshold—the hall behind her bright, the room ahead dark. It’s a very sparse, seedy place. Cheap queen bed, cheap cabinets, suspicious looking stains, warped/damaged mirror, ratty curtains…the sort of room you can imagine a smell just by looking at it. Everything seems sort of washed out. Main color scheme is rust, off-white, and dull yellow._

_BECKY drags herself in awkwardly, bumps the door shut, and locks it. Gaze downcast (eyes not visible) she pulls the suitcase further inside the room before just letting it lie there, dropping the backpack and sitting on the bed. Her fists are balled, her shoulders hunched. She looks simultaneously very angry and very vulnerable—small compared to the room. Out the window we see no movement. It’s just another building with garbage bins at the same ground level. No clear view of the street offers a sense of being boxed in or trapped._

_Remaining upright, BECKY punches the bed once vehemently. Her expression is furious bordering on tears during the pause that follows. She then turns around onto her stomach, grabs a pillow, and pulls it close—the cane still looped around her wrist. She’s digging her fingers into the pillow pretty viciously, expression still enraged. By this point BECKY is starting to cry._

BECKY: You…

BECKY: _[Pounds the bed repeatedly with one hand (somewhat awkwardly given the cane attached) but holds the pillow tighter if anything]_ You stupid—

BECKY: horrible—

BECKY: useless piece of—

_Tears running down her cheeks, 31 BECKY buries her face in the pillow, shakes the cane off her wrist, and wraps both arms around said pillow while lying flat. Zoom out the final shot in silence, again emphasizing Becky’s smallness in comparison to her surroundings._

_Cut to a partial shot of a man’s shoe and pant leg, beyond which is a set of elevator doors lit from above. 32 The doors open, and we see another man already in the elevator. He wears a white oxford, holds a briefcase, and seems to be a young office worker.33 His posture, however, is quite relaxed and apparently invested in whatever music is playing from his headphones. Without changing angle we see MR. PANT LEG walk to the elevator and discover that he is, in fact, SCARECROW.34 His face is not visible to us. Our office worker (wrapped in his own world) doesn’t notice._

_Shift to the elevator’s interior as we see SCARECROW enter but still not his face. The atmosphere around him is smoky, and spreads through subsequent panels. Focus on the office worker as he hits a button and the doors shut. Lights flicker and go dim._

_Shift to the elevator shaft, show the elevator descend into darkness from above._

_Shift back. With a frown, the office worker glances up at the lights then at SCARECROW. SCARECROW’s design is now an eyeless, sinewy, unnatural version of himself._

_Focus on the office worker again, who looks disturbed and scared as meat moss creeps across the wall behind him. He begins to take a step backward only to find that his leg has been gripped by a mass of veins extending from the floor of the elevator (far more organic now—the entire space increasingly slick, fleshy, and alive). His eyes widen and he looks to his fellow passenger once more only to see that he’s alone and the elevator walls are no longer recognizably man-made. More veins creep up his body, wrap him tight, begin to suck him straight down into the floor._

SCARECROW (OP):35 If Miss Albright intends on leading this kind of life, it’s only fair to expect her full commitment.36 _Veins cover the office worker’s face, which is terrified._

SCARECROW (OP): Don’t you think?

_The elevator doors open. SCARECROW exits in his usual costume accompanied by a rush of toxin. Inside the elevator is pure hallucination; the office worker is being swallowed by a hole in the floor while covered in veins of varying thickness. The skin of his face is mostly, if not completely, concealed. He’s probably screaming underneath it all but there are no sound effects._

SCARECROW (OP): That’s one for sorrow.

_Cut to a woman lying on her back, spine arched as bugs crawl across her skin—into her nose, mouth, and ears. Spiders, millipedes, wasps, roaches, worms, etc. Her shoulders are restrained by a pair of long, unnaturally thin hands. From the bits of costume we can see it is safe to assume that her captor is SCARECROW._

SCARECROW (OP): Two for joy.

_Cut to BECKY’s former boss, a woman in her late forties/early fifties, whose flesh is melting off while bones contort in unnatural ways. SCARECROW appears as a crooked, anatomically warped, emotionless monstrosity whose face is far too close for comfort._

SCARECROW (OP): Three for a girl.

_Cut to a series of panels. The first few should be completely black. Soon we receive just enough illumination to see that a man is screaming as SCARECROW, facial features out of proportion and ragged, disembowels him. This should be a claustrophobic shot. The last panel is all black again._

SCARECROW (OP): Four for a boy.

_Cut to a petite, mousy young woman looking at herself in a mirror. The glass is partially eaten by rust. Her reflection’s neck appears broken, the eyes too small, the forehead too large, the color drained. She raises her hand experimentally, the mirror image raising a non-corresponding hand alongside her. We see the victim’s eyes widen, then zoom in on an eye in the reflection. Reflected in the reflection’s eye 37 we see the girl as she is normally…with another uncanny version of SCARECROW tightening his hands over her shoulders._

SCARECROW (OP): Five for silver.

_Cut to a shot encompassing the warped perception of a bedroom in flames. The walls are crumbling, the ceiling burning. The floor is wooden, there is a single bed (traditional style), an unrecognizable corpse on the floor, a dresser, a book case, family photographs, an article or two of clothes, jewelry scattered about…pretty much everything is being consumed by fire. MR. ALBRIGHT (late-fifties), from whom BECKY inherits her chin, height, and eyebrows, is chained to a chair. 38 He seems rather upset. Approaching him is SCARECROW, wreathed in flames. He holds a super heated poker in his hands._

_Zoom in on SCARECROW, who still seems oddly calm._

SCARECROW: Don’t worry. This won’t hurt a bit.

_He raises the poker over his head to strike. 39 Do not show the blow, but cut to MR. ALBRIGHT’s eyes wide with pain and fear.40_

SCARECROW (OP): Six for gold.

_Cut to a needle raised against the dimly lit ceiling of MR. and MRS. ALBRIGHT’s room. Follow this needle through the eyelids of MRS. ALBRIGHT, sewing them shut with great care. Shift to JONATHAN’s face, unmasked and intent on his task. Note he wears the rest of his costume. Shift to MRS. ALBRIGHT’s mouth, which is already sealed in ragged stitches, bloody, and may be quivering. Tense, unable to scream despite wanting to. We pull back and see that JONATHAN has been kneeling in front of MRS. ALBRIGHT as she lies on the ground. She is disheveled and gory, about the same age as her husband. BECKY gets her hair and freckles from her mom. The room is not on the brink of collapse now, remains in a state of disorder from the initial struggle. There are some noticeable bloodstains. MR. ALBRIGHT appears to be dead, bound and mutilated in a fashion much like his wife in the chair we’d previously seen him in. JONATHAN rises, tosses the needle to the floor._

SCARECROW (OP): Seven for a secret, not to be told.

_JONATHAN wanders towards the door, then stops to look at the dresser. Its surface is cluttered with perfumes, a jewelry box, some clothing that hasn’t been put away yet, and family photographs. There is a mirror behind this dresser—reflected in it the room is somewhat less disordered, lacking bloodstains, and shows SCARECROW wearing his mask. MR. and MRS. ALBRIGHT, while worse for the wear, do not appear horribly mutilated. JONATHAN (still not wearing his mask outside the mirror) pauses to examine a picture of BECKY as a young girl doing monkey bars. She looks ecstatic, very proud of herself. Pull back, JONATHAN quirks his lips very slightly 41 with the expressionless mirror SCARECROW as a backdrop before replacing the photograph face-down._

_He exits, face bare, but we cannot read his expression. Exaggerated shadows may be fun._

SCARECROW (OP): Of course, there are other interpretations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 It occurred to me that there’s a good chance that only one pair of detectives would be called for in an Arkham breakout like this. So Renee and Harvey it is.
> 
> 31 If possible, I’d love for Becky to be slightly red around the eyes here. She’s not snotty or sobbing yet but this is the sort of cry that leads into that. Becky is a frustrated, inexperienced, unhappy young woman and she doesn’t necessarily handle setbacks with grace. We’ve seen the Raven Mocker as ruthless, wry, and casual. The first time we see Becky’s face she is furious. Here, viewers discover that for all her anger she’s still a girl crying by herself in a dark, icky motel room. She’s vulnerable, inelegant, scared, and struggles to admit that even when nobody else can see. 
> 
> 32 Don’t worry about making detailed settings here—I’d actually prefer for this to have an “anywhere” feel. 
> 
> 33 Four out of seven victims should be approximately Becky’s age—only a few years out of college. The exceptions are three, six, and seven.
> 
> 34 This is a little reference to _Strangers on a Train_ via characterization by footwear.
> 
> 35 Like the Raven Mocker, Scarecrow should also get creepy lettering. Not the same as hers, but something similarly jagged. Readable, but jagged.
> 
> 36 He might be breaking the fourth wall here and addressing readers directly in his OP lines. For added creepiness.
> 
> 37 A reflection inside a reflection inside a hallucination.
> 
> 38 Referencing Gerald Crane in _Scarecrow: Year One._
> 
> 39 Could be a stabbing or clubbing motion, parallel but not replicated with Granny Keeny. I’m not thinking of pushing an Oedipus complex on Becky’s end, but the height of her father should make a little visual connection with Jonathan. This scene would be reminiscent of self-punishment and _Psycho_ -esque role reversal with Jonathan taking the position of Granny Keeny. 
> 
> 40 This should parallel with victim 5, though exactly how this parallel is presented remains up to you.
> 
> 41 It is an ambiguous smile—not overtly kind or cruel. A sort of “blink and you miss it” expression either way. Subtle.


	6. Chapter 6

_Cut to Arkham Asylum’s low security ward. GORDON is sitting against the wall in what appears to be a hospital room, 42 hands folded over his knees, expression serious and a little sad. MRS. ALBRIGHT is strapped down in a nearby bed, sedated, being attended by an orderly. She’s physically fine. The atmosphere is quiet and sterile, with perhaps some pale green to accompany the beige/white scheme._

BATMAN (OP): How are they?

_GORDON doesn’t turn._

GORDON: Not good. Albright’s mother hasn’t said anything at all since they picked her up. The ex-boss had a heart attack. _[Glances down—a quick, transitory movement]_ She’s at Gotham General now. _[Gaze flicking right, presumably toward BATMAN]_ The others are typical for a case like this.

BATMAN: _[Standing beside GORDON, looking at MRS. ALBRIGHT with an expression that might be guilt. Maybe.]_ It could go either way.

GORDON: Yeah.

BATMAN: _[Broods]_

GORDON: Albright hasn’t committed any murders since Crane started hitting back.

BATMAN: Her friends and family were never involved. Is it hitting back?

GORDON: From his perspective. _[He straightens a little]_ What’s on your mind?

BATMAN: There is nobody to stop her now, except us.

GORDON: That didn’t seem to be an issue before.

BATMAN: _[Frowns, troubled]_ It just doesn’t make sense. She wasn’t alone after what Crane did to her. What could have made Albright willing to risk everything?

GORDON: _[Hesitates, then asks]_ What made you willing?

BATMAN: I’m not.43

GORDON: _[Sighs. After a moment]_ It’s beyond me. Seems all we can ever do with these nuts is damage control.

BATMAN: It has to end.

GORDON: Of course. And eventually it will. The only question is whether one side has to die or give up for that to happen.

_Shift to MRS. ALBRIGHT once more, with BATMAN and GORDON out of focus in the background._

GORDON (OP): We can’t.

_Cut to SCARECROW as he steps into the Iceberg Lounge through a set of understated double doors. Pull back the shot so that Scarecrow is in the background, the crowd 44 in the midground, and a STAFF MEMBER45 who has spotted SCARECROW in the foreground. SCARECROW begins heading toward the bar— tall and out of place even here. The STAFF MEMBER weaves between dancers to reach him. These panels should feel loud, claustrophobic, with panels zooming in as distance between SCARECROW and the STAFF MEMBER lessens. SCARECROW himself remains unaware of being pursued until receiving a tap on the shoulder, which should be a very close shot. When SCARECROW turns his mask is intimidating, and the STAFF MEMBER seems startled for a moment before settling into mild-mannered professionalism. We zoom out somewhat and see that the STAFF MEMBER is standing on tiptoe, raising her voice above the music, gesturing away from the bar. SCARECROW turns to see what she is referring to. Shift to reveal a set of out-of-the-way booths, where several rogues are conversing. One booth in particular houses only a tall, mask-clad figure. Her elbows are on the table, her gaze trained on SCARECROW. Zoom in. The RAVEN MOCKER waves casually._

_SCARECROW stills, then advances towards the RAVEN MOCKER. We see him (and the STAFF MEMBER) approach from the RAVEN MOCKER’s perspective, where she sits comfortably. She smirks. Her hand on the table closes into a fist. As he arrives, the RAVEN MOCKER quirks her head up at SCARECROW expectantly._

SCARECROW: Becky.

RAVEN MOCKER: Jonathan. _[Her lips stretch into a cruel grin beneath her mask. She reaches under her cloak and pulls out a pair of knives, placing them on the table.]_ We haven’t had a civil conversation yet.

SCARECROW: _[Looks at her, unmoving and unblinking, for a moment. Wordlessly he removes the toxin canisters from his wrists and hands them to the STAFF MEMBER, who takes them and the knives without comment before departing. SCARECROW sits down. He meets the RAVEN MOCKER’s eyes]_ Take that off.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[If at all possible, her smile grows]_ This not intimate enough for your tastes?

SCARECROW: _[Coldly, removing his own mask]_ Quite the opposite.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Clucks her tongue once, playing at hurt and disapproval]_ Tch. _[She brings both hands to the back of her mask, unbuckles it, and removes it]_

BECKY: _[Dry, darkly amused]_ You wound me.

JONATHAN: Call it an eye for an eye. _[His eyes flicker down before focusing on BECKY’s face again. His expression is stoic throughout this exchange.]_ What do you want?

BECKY: _[Mildly]_ I would appreciate it if you’d go die in a dark alley.

JONATHAN: So I’ve gathered. It doesn’t explain why you waited here though.

BECKY: I was in a social mood.

JONATHAN: Miss Albright.

BECKY: _[Cocks an eyebrow]_

JONATHAN: _[His mouth thins, his expression hardens]_ When did you make the leap to stalking and murdering people in a Halloween costume?

BECKY: _[Flippant, dismissive]_ Like you’re in a position to take issue with that.

JONATHAN: It’s your hypocrisy I take issue with.

BECKY: _[Lets out a sharp, barking laugh]_ HA!

BECKY: _My_ hypocrisy?

JONATHAN: _[Clinically, coldly]_ If memory serves, you were very insistent about rejecting this lifestyle not so long ago.

BECKY: The lingerie didn’t make a good case.

JONATHAN: _[He looks briefly taken aback, eyes wide even while snapping]_ I never gave you _lingerie_. 46

BECKY: _[The twisted smile returns. She ignores JONATHAN’s protest]_ Besides. _[She leans closer, to his obvious distaste—her expression cruel, mocking]_ I still think your conditions were ridiculous.

JONATHAN: _[Glaring]_ Explain.

BECKY: _[Channels creepy even without the mask]_ There’s no point in taking revenge on childhood bogeymen, Professor Crane. _[Running a finger from the base of JONATHAN’s neck down his torso—a continuation of what we saw him do to her in the flashback earlier]_ The memory stays to rot under your skin regardless.

JONATHAN: _[He’d stiffened under her hand initially, expression going slack, but when BECKY starts dipping below the waist he abruptly jerks away and shoves her off]_ Stop that!

BECKY: _[Chuckles nastily, sees no need to comment]_

JONATHAN: _[Clearly angry now]_ What is your _point?_

BECKY: My point? _[Half rises, the humor vanishing from her face]_ Call me a concerned citizen who’s sick of watching the police, the courts, and the Batman repeatedly fail to clean up this shithole.

JONATHAN: _[Scornful]_ Such a wonderful hero you’ve painted yourself.

BECKY: _[Scoffing, sitting back]_ Spare me. Heroes are inefficient and easily distracted by details like “law” or “morality”.

JONATHAN: Amazing how you were once so fond of those.

BECKY: Life is full of disappointments. A girl learns to adapt. _[Pauses, then adds with what might almost be earnestness]_ I had hoped to be your last victim.

JONATHAN: Don’t flatter yourself. I’ll manage just fine once you’re dead.

BECKY: _[The humor sneaks back, black and sardonic]_ Playing damsel in distress has lost its charm for me. I’m sure you’ll fill the role adequately though.

JONATHAN: Of course. _[Stands, makes to leave]_ Now, if we’re through swapping pleasantries…

BECKY: _[Grabs the hem of his shirt, pulls him back down]_ I’m not done with you yet.

JONATHAN: _[Scowling, losing patience]_ Then finish.

BECKY: I’d like to add something more substantial to my reputation. I can’t exactly rely on drugs to make an impression, after all. 

JONATHAN: _[Scowls harder, but doesn’t speak]_

BECKY: _[Smiles]_ What do you say we have a little competition? See which one of us can successfully destroy the Batman?

JONATHAN: To what end?

BECKY: He’ll be after us both by now. I would rather strike first.

JONATHAN: _[Looks away, reveals little emotionally]_ I have work to do. Why should I get involved?

BECKY: _[Leans in again, though she doesn’t move to touch him this time]_ If you succeed, Gotham is yours. I won’t seek retribution. I won’t compete for your theme—

JONATHAN: That was never a problem. _[Leans in as well, expression serious]_ What do you _really_ want, Becky?

BECKY: _[Coldly]_ I want you out. No more Scarecrow.

JONATHAN: And would you still be trying to kill me?

BECKY: I might. What would you do in my position?

JONATHAN: _[Smiles, and it is an exceptionally chilling expression in its own right]_

JONATHAN: I might. _[Abruptly, violently, he smashes BECKY’s head into the table—knocking her unconscious. JONATHAN picks up his mask, rises, glances down at BECKY, and slips aforementioned mask back on. We see him turn and beckon off panel. A slightly apprehensive STAFF MEMBER approaches.]_

SCARECROW: Bring my canisters.

_Shift focus to BECKY, out cold and at SCARECROW’s mercy in this moment._

SCARECROW (OP): Make sure Miss Albright’s things are returned to her safely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 42 My logic here is that various rogue attacks leave victims psychologically traumatized to the point of needing hospitalization, and I suspect Arkham might be better equipped to handle that kind of ailment than Gotham General.
> 
> 43 I’d like Batman to be relatively calm during this line. Like he’s stating a fact, not angry or angsty. This Batman, whatever else is going on in his head, isn’t indulging in costumed vigilantism for purely selfish reasons.
> 
> 44 Another cameo opportunity.
> 
> 45 She’s short, black-haired, and her uniform makes her look a bit like a magpie. Especially compared to Jonathan. If you can sneak nine total staff members into this scene to signify the “One For Sorrow” rhyme (Becky being ten), I will be incredibly happy.
> 
> 46 If you show one or more characters reacting to this exclamation in the background (or foreground, depending on how you want to present the shot), that would be _wonderful_. Whoever you think would be funniest.


	7. Chapter 7

_Transition to LELAND’s hand on a console table, next to a jack-o-lantern. Pull back. This is her home. The doorway behind her is shut. The walls are goldenrod, there’s dim light coming through glass in the door, the floor is wooden, there’s a mirror above the console. Ahead of her is a hall and stairway to the second floor._

_LELAND’s head is bowed, her jaw tight, her eyes closed. She collects herself and straightens, looking ahead. Shift angles to show the end of the hall, where the light is on in the kitchen. The décor there is, like her office, modern—very geometric. The colors are black, cream, and burgundy._

_LELAND enters the kitchen. JONATHAN is reclining in a chair at her table with a glass of red wine. His mask lies next to a second glass and the bottle. He makes no pretense of being surprised but gives her a slight smile._

LELAND: Hello Jonathan.

JONATHAN: Joan. Good to see you again. _[He proffers the second glass, which LELAND accepts. She looks at it skeptically for a moment, and JONATHAN’s smile broadens]_ Don’t worry, it’s only wine.

LELAND: Of course. _[Sips. Continues mildly]_ You’ve been busy lately.

JONATHAN: I’ve had a lot of loose ends to tie up. _[Sips]_ You’ve been helping the police look for me.

LELAND: I worry. _[JONATHAN laughs. She sits across from him, her demeanor very calm]_ What can I do for you?

JONATHAN: Well, I am planning a little abduction by the end of our conversation.

LELAND: Mm. _[Contemplates her glass, makes no move to drink]_

JONATHAN: You’ll probably die. Should be messy.

LELAND: I see. _[She meets his eye]_ Any reason in particular?

JONATHAN: I’m aiming to make an example of you. Partly. _[LELAND raises her eyebrows, waits]_ I know what you did.

LELAND: And what is that?

JONATHAN: _[Contemplative now]_ You’re the one who shared my files with Rebecca Albright. Aren’t you?

LELAND: _[Sets her glass on the table, looks down. Her mouth is taut. She looks up again]_ No, Jonathan. I’m not.

JONATHAN: There’s no point in lying, Doctor Leland.

LELAND: I never shared your files.

JONATHAN: _[Stands abruptly, slamming one hand against the table while hurling the wine glass to the floor with the other. Raising his voice]_ _Yes_ , you did!

LELAND: _[Stands. Her reply is firm, even]_ I don’t know who gave her access, but on my life I swear that it wasn’t me.

JONATHAN: _[With venom]_ And is that supposed to mean something?

LELAND: I would never do that to you.

JONATHAN: Why _NOT?_

LELAND: You’re my patient.

JONATHAN: _[Rolling his eyes]_ Oh please.

LELAND: It matters. I promised I would help—

JONATHAN: _[Sharply]_ There is literally no reason beyond your paycheck for you to help someone like me.

LELAND: _[Finally snapping]_ This doesn’t have to be your life, Jonathan! _[He falls silent. LELAND brings her fingers to her temples for a moment, then continues more calmly]_ What happened to you is unacceptable, but you have been doing everything in your power to make sure nobody approaches you again. It hurts everyone. It has to stop.

JONATHAN: _[Thoughtfully, maybe a touch amused]_ Is that what you think?

LELAND: And then some.

JONATHAN: Hm. _[Smiles briefly, thinly]_ Well isn’t that just cute.

LELAND: _[Sighs. After a pause]_ What do I need to do? _[JONATHAN looks down, drums his fingers on the table, doesn’t answer]_ Where are you planning to take me? 

JONATHAN: Do you really expect me to tell you that?

LELAND: I suppose not. _[Puts her hands in her pockets, meets JONATHAN’s eye once more]_ I’m ready when you are.

_Cut to a scene of a small house by the Gotham River. The paint is peeling, the windows are blacked out. A bridge is in the background. There aren’t so many other buildings here—some scrubby grass, skyscrapers in the distance. The RAVEN MOCKER is hurrying away from the viewers toward the house._

_Repeat the shot, except this time the RAVEN MOCKER is at the door, and serial killer JAY AVERY in pursuit. He has a knife in his hand and is grinning widely. His excitement is obvious._

_Repeat the shot again. The door is slightly ajar, the RAVEN MOCKER nowhere in sight, AVERY closer._

_Cut to AVERY’S face inside the house. It’s a black background—we literally can’t make anything out behind him._

AVERY: Here chickee, chickee, chickee.

AVERY sticks his hand out to the side, flicks a light switch.

_Ten spotlights go on through the room, directed from the ceiling to the floor over ten female mannequins. Each mannequin is hairless, each dressed in the clothing of AVERY’S ten victims, each with its eyes and mouth carved out to form yawning black spaces reminiscent of Munch's The Scream. A few black feathers drift through the scene._

_AVERY appears a little unnerved, turns to the door—shut behind him—and finds it locked._

AVERY: _[His smile stretches, a little tense]_ What, this supposed to be scary?

_AVERY advances to the closest mannequin, kicks it over._

AVERY: I’m the real thing, sweetheart. There’s no place for your plastic bullshit here.

_A drop of blood drips from the ceiling onto AVERY’s shoulder. He looks up._

_A number of female mannequins have been conjoined into a deformed, monstrous, centipede-like figure suspended from the ceiling. It has too many arms and legs, body slick with blood, face a gaping hole containing a single raven. Its segmented torso has been split open. There are organs dangling out._

_AVERY is looking up, speechless. Behind him two yellow eyes glow._

_The panel goes dark._

RAVEN MOCKER (OP): It’s called a preview, Jay.

_Open on VERONICA VREELAND’s smile, dark lipstick and white teeth. The background behind her has a champagne golden glow._

VERONICA: Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up after all.

_Pull back. We see VERONICA properly now—a tall, elegant looking redhead with green eyes, great makeup, snazzy jewelry, the works. An extremely fashionable socialite. Although not exactly the same by any means, there should be some definite resemblance between her and SHERRY SQUIRES. Her dress is black, and this coupled with aforementioned red hair does give her a faintly RAVEN MOCKER-ish vibe. She’s holding a glass of white wine. Behind her is a ballroom, very fancy with tons of marble and so forth. There are many other socialites here._

BRUCE (OP): Hello, Veronica.

_Pull back further. We see BRUCE WAYNE, tuxedo clad, smiling easily, standing opposite VERONICA on a balcony from which two staircases descend to the main floor._

VERONICA: _[Grinning wider]_ I was starting to forget what you look like.

BRUCE: _[Chuckling, offering his arm]_ Come on, I haven’t been away that long.

VERONICA: _[Looping her free arm through his elbow]_ You have. You’ve been the most _dreadful_ recluse imaginable. Everybody has been trying to guess what Bruce Wayne’s been up to these past few weeks.

BRUCE: _[Begins to descend the stairway with her]_ And what does everybody think I’ve been up to?

VERONICA: _[Mischievous]_ No good, mostly.

BRUCE: Is that right?

_They arrive at the bottom of the staircase._

VERONICA: I think you’re losing your touch. The tabloids haven’t mentioned you in far too long.

_In the background, some of the socialites are beginning to sport uncannily long, crooked limbs, jerking at odd angles. BRUCE is still focused on VERONICA._

BRUCE: Well. I’ll have to work on that, won’t I?

_Shadows stretch._

VERONICA: Make it something scandalous, Brucie. It’s always such a joy when you shock people.

_VERONICA’s eyes are sliding down her face. BRUCE’s eyes widen. The room dims._

BRUCE: FEAR TOXIN!

 _The doors burst open. SCARECROW enters, tuxedo and mask-clad, holding a scythe, surrounded by similarly dressed henchmen with pitchforks. JONATHAN is very clearly the tallest and thinnest._

_Switch angles to SCARECROW’s perspective. Note the lighting is normal. He turns to his henchmen._

SCARECROW: Fan out. Capture Wayne quickly, and don’t forget to signal.

HENCHMAN #1: We know. We’re not stupid.

SCARECROW: _[A socialite lunges for him, and he knocks them back easily with the hilt of his scythe. Dryly]_ Well that _would_ be refreshing.

_Cut to BRUCE, who is in a defensive stance, eyes wide, surveying his surroundings. From his perspective again, a hazy room full of unnaturally tall, deformed, black-clad, ragged SCARECROWS. 47 People are screaming and attacking each other, clawing at their faces, generally in complete and utter chaos. VERONICA is no longer in sight. One SCARECROW throws another into the wall and is trying to strangle him._

BRUCE: Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing! _[When this doesn’t appear to make any difference he tackles the violent SCARECROW and raises his fist to punch him]_

_Cut to SCARECROW making his way through the crowd, an oozing, monstrous figure in black towering above everybody else. The room is secreting a sort of transparent mucus that coats the other guests, making them look inhuman. Switch to his perspective and we see the socialites attacking each other around him. One runs past in utter terror. SCARECROW easily pushes him aside too. VERONICA nearly runs into him and stops to avoid doing this, looking up very obviously terrified._

VERONICA: _[Tries to take a step back only to find another socialite blocking her retreat.]_ Don’t kill me! I-if you need money I can give you whatever you want. _[Removes her necklace hastily, offers it]_ Here! See?

SCARECROW: _[Glances at the necklace with little interest before turning to VERONICA’s face again]_

_VERONICA no longer resembles herself. We see SHERRY SQUIRES standing before him now, looking near tears._

VERONICA/SHERRY: _Please_ leave me alone!

SCARECROW: _[He grabs her extended wrist tightly. We see a panel of SHERRY in the dark, wearing a sexy witch costume, looking straight ahead as if at him/the reader. SCARECROW pulls VERONICA/SHERRY forward a little bit so she stumbles. Snapping]_ Be _quiet!_

_VERONICA cries out, tears spilling from her eyes. In another series of flashback panels we see SHERRY’s fingers in the dark, unbuttoning teenage JONATHAN’s shirt. He’s dressed as a doctor, wearing a white coat and fake stethoscope—it’s a relatively simple costume. Her hands move to his pants. Back to present SCARECROW, we see his grip is very tight, shaking. Zoom in on his eyes, which are wide under the mask._

_Move into a full flashback sequence._

_JONATHAN and SHERRY are in a basement, at the base of a wooden stairwell. It’s cluttered, a little musty. SHERRY presses herself against JONATHAN, her face beside his. His shirt, jacket, and pants are off but not his underwear—we don’t get a good view of this because of SHERRY. JONATHAN’s arms are hovering over her back uncertainly as if he’s not sure he can put them there. Then he does._

SHERRY: _[Looks down, nose brushing his shoulder, then smiles slightly—almost sad]_ Hm. _[She brings her hand up behind JONATHAN’s neck, feathering his hair gently. Then her smile shifts into something wider, showing teeth—cruel. Murmuring]_ You are such an idiot. _[JONATHAN’s eyes, previously closed, open. He looks confused. SHERRY brings her hands to his shoulders and steps back. JONATHAN lets her go. She’s grinning openly. It’s a nasty expression]_

JONATHAN: _[Quietly, hurt and still confused]_ Sherry?

BO: _[Emerging from shadows under the stairwell. He’s wearing a costume of the Headless Horseman 48 from Sleepy Hollow—simple, vaguely Victorian stuff with a jack-o-lantern tucked under his arm. He’s also sporting an exceptionally nasty smile, and his tone is aggressive]_ WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND, CRANE?

JONATHAN: _[Still totally bewildered but starting to realize what’s going on, horrified and pretty scared looking as he stumbles back toward the wall]_ W-what?

BO: I SAID— _[Hurls the jack-o-lantern at Jonathan, barely misses his head. It crashes into the wall and shatters]_ –WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND?

_JONATHAN bolts up the staircase._

_Cut to JONATHAN running toward the readers out of a small, pale-blue house—tripping down the steps of the front porch, falling to the ground. A crowd of costumed people has assembled, many of them laughing at him. BO, SHERRY, and several others surround JONATHAN._

_JONATHAN stays there for a moment, head down. The laughter continues._

BYSTANDER #1: Check out the assless wonder!

BYSTANDER #2: Thought you would get some action tonight, eh Scarecrow?

BYSTANDER #3: Pfffft, freak.

_JONATHAN hunches his shoulders. Against his will, he is starting to cry._

BYSTANDER #4: Oh my god is he crying?

BYSTANDER #5: What a baby.

BYSTANDER #6: Boo-hoo-hoo, you little shit.

_BO hauls him to his feet by one arm. JONATHAN staggers. BO shoves him into another member of the crowd, grinning._

BO: Come on, you wanna have a go over it?

_JONATHAN is pushed back toward BO, stumbles again. He’s looking frantically for a way out. His eyes light on SHERRY, whose arms are folded over her chest. She’s not looking at him._

JONATHAN: _[Desperately]_ Sherry, please…

SHERRY: _[Turns to him, twists her expression into a glare]_ Excuse me?

_SHERRY steps out of the crowd to stand next to BO._

JONATHAN: _[Looking at her, openly in tears]_ I’m sorry, I didn’t… _[More people laugh, and he wipes his eyes with his arm, grimacing]_

SHERRY: _[Steely]_ Don’t even bother. We all know what kind of jackass you are.

_SHERRY steps forward._

SHERRY: Think you’re fucking better than us because you're smart?

JONATHAN: No, no I don’t—

SHERRY: Just shut up. It ever occur to you that there’s a reason no one likes you? You’re creepy, you’re rude, you don’t give a crap about anybody but yourself. I mean Jesus Christ, Jonathan.

_JONATHAN goes silent, looking down. There are a few uncertain titters._

SHERRY: _[Scoffs]_ You know what? Just get out.

BO: Sherry—

SHERRY: I want to go back to the party. _[Turns, starts to go back inside]_ Come on, Bo.

BO: _[Gives JONATHAN one final shove toward the road, smirking. The crowd is dispersing. JONATHAN is too miserable to react much]_ You’re lucky.

VERONICA (OP): Let me go, _please_.

_We come back to the present. VERONICA has tears streaming messily down her face, makeup smeared._

VERONICA: You’re hurting me.

SCARECROW: _[Jerking her forward, a manic look in his eyes]_ Change of plans. _[Throws a flash bomb to the floor]_ I think you’ll do _just_ fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 47 Reminiscent of Tim Sale would be great.
> 
> 48 This isn’t actually a super lame, half-assed costume. In the original story it’s heavily implied that Ichabod Crane’s rival in love, a sort of brutish guy named Brom Bones, faked being the Headless Horseman to scare Ichabod off. With his head still attached, Bo would be playing a character who is pretending to be a ghost.


	8. Chapter 8

_Transition to a close up on a raven’s eye, filmed over and clearly dead. Zoom out to see more of the bird’s profile. Its beak is open—if possible, giving the impression that it died screaming. There is a fly crawling over it. We do not see the raven’s body yet._

RAVEN MOCKER (OP): Some people would consider this an unkindness.

_Flash to the photograph of a gangly, longhaired brunette smiling sheepishly for the camera at high school graduation. The photograph is wrinkled, torn, slightly bloodstained, stuck to a concrete wall with a little masking tape. Shift back to show, again in profile, the lower half of AVERY’s face. The raven we saw previously is stuffed inside his mouth, its body mangled and sliced away to fit better. AVERY suffers similar treatment. There is a horrible, boneless quality to his jaw, and the skin has obviously been stitched back together in places to make the grotesque suggestion of a scarecrow._

RAVEN MOCKER (OP): Ingratitude to the highest degree.

_We see a close up from the front of four more ravens stuffed inside AVERY’s chest, which has been carved out to fit them. They are crawling with flies and stitched into place. 49 Show, in similarly weathered shots,50 four more photographs of young women. The second victim is sitting in a restaurant, laughing as one of her friends prepares to pelt her with a stolen crouton. The third is hiking in the woods using a large walking stick, her expression wryly amused. We can see an engagement ring on her hand, though it isn’t huge. The fourth is visiting a nursing home. She has a sad but genuine smile as she poses with her grandfather. He appears enthusiastic with his own smile, if completely confused. The fifth is ruffling her cat’s ears, looking down at it affectionately rather than at the camera. The cat is gray in color and appears somewhat indignant._

RAVEN MOCKER (OP): The truth is nothing so unreasonable.

_Pull back the torso shot just enough to show that besides the four birds filling his chest, AVERY’s stomach has also been hollowed. There are five more ravens, similarly stitched in and mutilated. We can see now that AVERY’s body is leaning against a bloody concrete wall, though we don’t see much of it yet._

_Another series of photographs. The sixth victim is an EMT, terribly serious, posing next to her ambulance. She has a gold locket around her neck. The seventh is a nine year-old girl hugging her guy friend in Robinson Park. He has a big, toothy grin. She has a smile that wrinkles her eyes, but is self-conscious about her teeth and doesn’t show them. Eighth is a ballet dancer, grinning broadly in-costume 51 backstage as she prepares to perform. Ninth is a tired-eyed woman in her mid-twenties, unhealthy, sitting on worn-out steps in a worn-out Picasso-esque costume. A budding rogue. She smiles thinly around her cigarette. Tenth is a photo featuring the last victim, whose story was being covered by SUMMER GLEESON earlier. She’s sandwiched between her parents, curly-haired, not beautiful but sweet and truly happy._

RAVEN MOCKER (OP): Consider this a present of the necessary. Just for you.

_Pull back to show the entire shot—JAY AVERY is tied to a pole and dressed in the fashion of a scarecrow (TAS), his shirt ripped open to expose the ravens inside him, blood dripping down his pants, 52 skin stitched together roughly over his body, a hat perched on his head. He’s propped, clearly dead, against a wall. Above him we discover the photographs we’ve been seeing are torn and taped into the symbol of a bat. AVERY is surrounded by the graffiti scrawled rhyme:_

_ONE FOR SORROW_

_TWO FOR LUCK_

_THREE FOR A WEDDING_

_FOUR FOR DEATH_

_FIVE FOR SILVER_

_SIX FOR GOLD_

_SEVEN FOR A SECRET NOT TO BE TOLD_

_EIGHT FOR HEAVEN_

_NINE FOR HELL_

_TEN FOR THE DEVIL’S OWN SELL_

_Pull back further to show that this wall encircles Blackgate Penitentiary, the body positioned away from the entrance for practical purposes. Barbed wire crowns the wall._

RAVEN MOCKER (OP): …and maybe for myself. A little.

_Pull back again to a neighboring rooftop, where the RAVEN MOCKER looks down at the body and the wall from above. Although she is in the shot, we view the scene as if standing right next to her. From her perspective._

_The RAVEN MOCKER turns and exits the shot, our view otherwise remaining unchanged._

RAVEN MOCKER (OP): We both deserve more than you’re willing to be.

_Cut to GORDON washing dishes in his kitchen in front of the window. The walls are teal, the floor is black and white checkerboard. 53_

GORDON: It’s good to have you home again, Barbara.

_Pull into the room. BARBARA GORDON is wiping the table. She smiles, rolls her eyes._

BARBARA: Don’t be so dramatic. Gotham U is what, a fifteen minute drive?

GORDON: _[Smiles]_ What can I say? I’m a dramatic guy.

BARBARA: _[Chuckles, then moves to throw out the wet paper towel. There’s a pause as she does this]_ So how is everything, really?

GORDON: _[Sighs]_ You know the drill. This city is practically drowning in lunatics.

BARBARA: _[More serious]_ Yeah. _[Beat]_ I heard about Avery.

GORDON: _[Toweling the dishes]_ Almost feels like one step forward, two steps back. The press is having a field day with everything that’s been going on.

BARBARA: _[Wanders over to stand next to him]_ You do a good job, dad.

GORDON: _[Smiles, a little sadly]_ Thank you. _[Kisses her on the forehead]_ Still, sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be better if—

_The doorbell rings._

BARBARA: Hold on. _[Wanders out of the room to open the door.]_

_For one panel, we just see GORDON putting the dishes away._

BARBARA (OP): _[Screaming]_ DAD!

_GORDON turns, alarmed._

GORDON: _[Switch perspectives to show him running toward the readers into a dark room, the kitchen bright behind him]_ Barbara?

_[Shift perspectives again to show SCARECROW standing in the doorway, BARBARA coughing on the ground before him, fear toxin in the air. SCARECROW is holding a gun.]_

SCARECROW: _[Pointing the gun at GORDON]_ Hello, Commissioner.

GORDON: _[We see that this is a sitting room. GORDON is standing between a blue couch and the fireplace. The walls are gray, the floor is tan. He holds his hands up]_ Put the gun down, Crane.

SCARECROW: That would be counterproductive. _[Beckons with his free hand]_ You’re going on a trip with me tonight.

_Shift to BARBARA’s perspective. SCARECROW appears to be a boneless, malformed figure with growths and slick looking skin. The house is twisting, the roof bursting inward like a bubble, the floor sagging. The gun is still trained on her father._

GORDON: _[Advancing slowly, his voice firm]_ Step away from my daughter.

SCARECROW: _[Glances down. BARBARA sees the mask contort into a horrifying sort of smile. He points the gun at her]_ Hurry up now.

BARBARA: Dad, no!

GORDON: _[Comes toward SCARECROW carefully, who shifts the gun back to him and moves away as GORDON goes out the door]_ Just take it easy.

BARBARA: _[Stands]_ Get away from him, Scarecrow!

_SCARECROW’s eyes flit to her momentarily, though his aim doesn’t waver. GORDON takes the opportunity to attempt to wrest the gun from CRANE. There’s a brief struggle, a shot goes off, and GORDON staggers._

BARBARA: NO!

_GORDON falls to the ground. SCARECROW looks at him, sighs, and shrugs._

SCARECROW: What a waste.

_BARBARA rushes to her father, gathers him in her arms. Blood covers his chest. She pulls him close, her breath coming in shudders, before jerking her head up to SCARECROW. She’s fighting back tears._

BARBARA: YOU…YOU—

JONATHAN: _[His body shifts back to its proper form. The world returns to normal. GORDON is still dead. JONATHAN takes off his mask to smile down at her]_ Don’t be so dramatic, _Babs_. _[He turns and begins walking to a small, crummy, banged-up brown car parked on the street]_

_BARBARA grits her teeth and balls her fist. She stands, then runs after JONATHAN with the very clear intention of kicking his ass. Metal bars shoot up from the ground, forming a cage around her. She grabs the bars, shoving against them, snarling as she struggles ineffectually to get out._

_JONATHAN calmly opens the door, gives BARBARA a casual wave, gets into the car, and drives off. BARBARA screams, but we see rather than hear it._

_Transition to the face of a bat._

BATMAN (OP): It’s going to be alright, Barbara.

_Angle down. The bat is hanging from the ceiling—still on panel but not the focus. We see BATMAN in the Batcave below, sitting in his chair in front of the computer. On the screen are pictures of LELAND, VERONICA, and GORDON with small text underneath. BATGIRL stands across from him. Her arms are folded over her chest._

BATGIRL: _[Looks him in the eye, tone serious]_ You’re sure?

_Zoom in. BATMAN meets her gaze, shows no sign of uncertainty._

BATMAN: You never left the house. There was no body.

BATGIRL: _[Looks down. After a moment]_ …I saw him get shot.

BATMAN: _[More gently]_ Crane does this all the time. You know that.

BATGIRL: Do you think my dad’s okay?

BATMAN: We’ll find him. I promise.

BATGIRL: _[Remains silent for a while, then looks back up]_ I should have done something.

BATMAN: _[Stands, puts his hands on BATGIRL’s shoulders]_ This wasn’t your fault. The toxin affects different people in different ways.

BATGIRL: You weren’t left… left _useless_ like that.

BATMAN: I couldn’t stop him either. It happens. Now, we need to make sure it doesn’t go any further.

BATGIRL: _[Looks away briefly, then turns back to BATMAN]_ Why didn’t you ask for my help?

BATMAN: _[Releasing her, he turns and walks back to his computer. He plants his hands on the desk and doesn’t look at BATGIRL. After a moment, he answers]_ This was my mistake. I should have done something the moment I knew there was trouble at Arkham.

_BATMAN looks up, but still not at BATGIRL._

BATMAN: When Bolton used his authority to torture patients, I stopped him. It would be easy to say I wanted to believe the asylum was safe now. Wishful thinking.

_BATGIRL looks like she’s considering saying something, but doesn’t interrupt._

BATMAN (OP): The truth is, sometimes I don’t want to protect everyone. I want to pretend that those criminals aren’t human when this happens over and over again.

BATMAN: _[Turning to the readers and BATGIRL]_ But it’s part of what we do. I shouldn’t have forgotten. My mess, my responsibility.

BATGIRL: Bruce, part of being responsible is recognizing that the most important thing isn’t that _you_ fix everything. It’s that everything gets fixed.

BATGIRL: _[Steps forward to stand next to him]_ In the future, if you do need help _ask_ for it.

BATMAN: I’ll make sure to remember that.

SCARECROW (OP): Hello Gotham.

_BATMAN and BATGIRL turn to look up at the computer screen, on which a window has opened displaying SCARECROW. He stands against a simple wooden background. 54_

SCARECROW: As you may know, I’ve acquired a few new subjects.

_Zoom in, so that SCARECROW fills the panel—BATMAN and BATGIRL no longer visible._

SCARECROW: _[Gesturing with one hand]_ Doctor Joan Leland, representing Arkham in all its glory. Veronica Vreeland, who should be familiar thanks to her constant media presence. And of course there’s the hard-working Commissioner James Gordon.

SCARECROW: I find myself with more fear toxin than I really know what to do with, so it looks like they should die in about, oh…

_Whips out his watch._

SCARECROW: …Forty-five minutes? Give or take a little?

SCARECROW: If you want to avoid some particularly dramatic overdoses I’m afraid there’s not much you can do. Unless you happen to be Batman.

SCARECROW: To our dark knight, I’d suggest meeting me alone and unprotected at the Gotham Cathedral _soon_. My guests are being kept at three separate locations. I might be willing to let those locations slip before time runs out.

SCARECROW: _[Head angling forward, making him look more sinister]_ But then again, I might also be willing to poison everyone early if things don’t go as planned. So think carefully before you decide to bring any friends along, mm?

SCARECROW: _[Casually]_ Be seeing you.

_Black panel._

_Pull back, show BATMAN and BATGIRL looking up at the computer in silence. The window is dark._

_BATMAN rises, unbuckles his utility belt._

BATGIRL: You can’t tell me you’re—

BATMAN: There isn’t time. I refuse to put any more lives at risk.

BATGIRL: It’s obviously a trap! Let me come, we can—

BATMAN: I need you to help the GCPD find everybody in time. The victims take priority.

BATGIRL: You don’t even know if he’s telling the truth!

_Zoom in on BATMAN’s face._

BATMAN: He will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 49 Although we don’t see the entire outfit yet, Jay is clothed. His shirt has been torn down the front to expose the mutilation so there may be some cloth visible in the panel, but nothing obstructive.
> 
> 50 They can be overlapping or spaced out—I encourage you to experiment with paneling. Just make sure it remains clear that these are photographs connected to the current, very morbid scene.
> 
> 51 The telltale white feathers of _Swan Lake_. This links back to the Leda and the Swan statue from Penguin’s office, notions of loss of innocence and violence, turning from good to bad, temptation, etc. Also, Becky can’t dance. Being a dancer would bring joy to her herself and to others—an impossible dream of sorts.
> 
> 52 The pant stains should connect smoothly with the hole in Avery’s torso, but there are a few phallic/yonic interpretations. One, blood from his victims. Two, his own blood. This might be castration or period blood, but his status as violator and victim are blurred while simultaneously blending gender connotations. Avery becomes sexless, is both pregnant (see ravens) and infertile in this state. A creator and not-creator. Sort of like the relationship between Becky and Jonathan.
> 
> 53 See _The Long Halloween_ for reference.
> 
> 54 He might actually be in the confessional. I’m not sure whether this would work physically, but if it does he’s totally doing it.


	9. Chapter 9

_Transition to the bell tower of Gotham Cathedral. The entire building is abandoned, characterized by a state of disrepair. This spot is no different. There is stained glass, dirty old stone and a similarly dirty wooden floor. SCARECROW sits in the corner, scythe beside him, legs sprawled, fidgeting with a piece of straw between his fingers. Nervous energy. There’s a distant slam. His head jerks up to a television screen set up across the room. BATMAN has entered the church. Grabbing his scythe, SCARECROW rises wordlessly. He checks his waist, finds a trigger attached there, and descends a ladder in the center of the room._

_Cut to BATMAN walking down the aisle of the church. As with the bell tower there’s a lot of stained glass with the addition of a mammoth pipe organ, angel statues…a lot of dust and furniture fallen into ruin. BATMAN is on alert, scanning his surroundings. He has a gasmask on._

BATMAN: Where are the prisoners, Crane?

SCARECROW (OP): Batman! So glad you could make it.

SCARECROW (OP): You might want to take the gasmask off. Wouldn’t do to throw out our deal over a minor technicality, would it?

BATMAN: _[Glaring, removes his gasmask and drops it with a clatter. The lights gradually take on a red-orange tint—dimming the room. It’s a sinister atmosphere]_ Talk.

SCARECROW (OP): Naturally. You’ll find Leland at 111 West 74th street. Vreeland is 29 East 30th, and Gordon’s staying at 68 Aston.

BATMAN: _[Puts a hand to his ear]_ Got that?

_We get the soft SHHHHHHHHH of static. BATMAN is viewed through an archway, which is dark._

BATMAN: _[Once more in a close shot, drops his hand. Rust is crawling across the floor where he steps]_ You’ve filled the church with toxin.

SCARECROW (OP): What did you expect?

_There a loud screech. The columns are changing to resemble metal beams. The walls darken and begin to seep. Rust spreads to cover most of the room. The angels become members of the rogues’ gallery. BATMAN turns in an attempt to identify the source of the noise._

BATMAN: Your thugs waiting for me?

_Something is starting to clank steadily in the background. BATMAN turns to the pipe organ._

SCARECROW (OP): Just the two of us tonight. We aren’t all lucky enough to have your funding.

_The organ is darkening, growing more mechanical, pipes coming to resemble a collection of guns. There is a large black tunnel (gun barrel) extending forward from the center._

_In the pews sit a myriad of vaguely human figures all covered in what look like sheets of white plastic. They spasm in place—some trying to stretch for air, some reclining, some splayed._

_BATMAN doesn’t reply, turns away from the scene to the entrance of the bell tower. He advances, turns the knob, and pushes the door in to face utter darkness. There are a series of clicks as he does this, then silence._

_There is a beat panel as BATMAN scans the shadows._

_A scythe lances out from behind him. BATMAN manages to escape severe damage by moving quickly but does get slashed on the shoulder. He hisses, takes another step back, and turns to the source of the blade._

_SCARECROW looks almost surreal. His neck, arms, legs, and hands are all unnaturally long and thin—spider-like. His mouth, sewn in burlap, is wide and grinning, pupils burning blue. His costume hangs off of him in tatters, straw and wood where skin should be exposed. He holds the scythe with both hands, sweeping it down._

_BATMAN lowers himself into a fighter’s stance, glaring. Mechanical mouths with needle-teeth yawn where the windows once were—the space within them black holes._

BATMAN: What is this about, Crane?

_The clanking stutters._

SCARECROW: Who says it’s about anything? _[Lashes out again. Batman dodges]_

_There is a prolonged screech._

BATMAN: _[Strikes with his fist only to be blocked by the shaft of SCARECROW’s scythe. Harshly]_ You went through a lot of trouble to bring me here. Why?

_The screeching stops with a loud BANG._

SCARECROW: Nothing personal. _[Twists to attack BATMAN’s torso, is blocked]_ You’re not actually that important. 

BATMAN: _[Finds an opening and punches SCARECROW in the jaw—knocking him back several steps and making him stagger]_ And what about the lives you’ve endangered? Are you going to tell me that’s not personal?

_SCARECROW runs down the aisle, into the tunnel-structure. BATMAN follows. The next few panels use sparse lighting, dim red—not a clear source. The walls and floor here are rib-like, slick._

SCARECROW (OP): _[Concealed in shadow]_ Just sending a message.

_The scythe lances out close to the ground, catching BATMAN’s ankle and yanking it out from under him. There’s a fair amount of blood, not a lot of room._

BATMAN: AAARGH!

SCARECROW: _[Towering over him]_ The police can’t stop me. _[Strikes. BATMAN rolls to the side]_ The rich can’t escape me. _[Strikes again, misses again]_ Arkham can’t change me.

_BATMAN bends his spine under him and launches himself to his feet—crashing into SCARECROW who hits the ground hard._

BATMAN: Do you really expect _me_ to believe this has nothing to do with Rebecca Albright?

SCARECROW: _[Scrambling away and to his feet, deeper into darkness, still holding his scythe. His eyes are all that remain visible, and he rolls them]_ Her again? You’re starting to sound a little obsessed.

BATMAN: _[Advances toward him, blood coating his ankle]_ She murdered a man in your effigy.

SCARECROW: _[Strikes out again]_ Your point?

BATMAN: _[Lunges, punches SCARECROW in the face with a loud crack that sends him sprawling again—scythe spinning out of reach. With a groan, the organ splits in two and falls apart—letting more, deep red light filter onto BATMAN and SCARECROW. The back wall of the church is visible. Behind the remnants of the gun-organ, the bodies in the pews sit motionless. The plastic sheets are covered in blood. BATMAN towers over SCARECROW, snarling]_ What do you want, Crane?

SCARECROW: _[Lies stunned for a moment, then starts to laugh. His jaw opens too far to be human, threads stretching between the burlap mouth]_ What do _I_ want?

_BATMAN makes to grab SCARECROW, who whips out the toxin trigger._

SCARECROW: I want the house with a picket fence, a wife, and two point five kids. What do you think?

BATMAN: _[Freezes]_ Drop it.

_There’s ticking in the background for a panel—in quick succession._

SCARECROW: I don’t think I will. Try moving back a few steps, mm?

BATMAN: _[Retreating, doesn’t break eye contact with SCARECROW]_ This won’t help you.

SCARECROW: _[Getting to his feet a little unsteadily. The movement involves some motions that would imply broken bones—uncanny stuff]_ On the contrary Batman—I think this is _very_ helpful.

BATMAN: Those people don’t deserve it.

SCARECROW: Oh _spare_ me the heroics. _[Goes toward his scythe, has to pause once to maintain balance. BATMAN takes a step forward, and SCARECROW holds the trigger in front of him threateningly]_ I mean it.

BATMAN: Is this a game to you?

SCARECROW: _[Retrieving his weapon]_ What ever gave you that idea?

_The walls are crusting over._

BATMAN: If you push the trigger, you’ll have nothing to stop me with.

SCARECROW: I’m armed. _[Swinging at BATMAN’s neck]_ You’re not.

_BATMAN catches the scythe just beyond the blade and jerks it forward to hit SCARECROW in the face with the hilt—hard. The trigger flies out of his hand and lands on the floor. SCARECROW staggers again, this time back into a wall._

_BATMAN tosses the scythe aside, steps on the trigger and breaks it with his boot._

_SCARECROW takes maybe two wavering steps toward the door before being slammed into the wall again by BATMAN._

_BATMAN is gripping him very tightly by the shoulders, pressing him back forcefully._

_We shift to SCARECROW’s perspective. The church appears normal, though still in disrepair. SCARECROW initially scrabbles for BATMAN’s throat before getting slammed once more._

BATMAN: _[Viciously]_ _Enough._ _[Grabs the bottom of SCARECROW’s mask with one hand as if he intends to rip it off]_

_SCARECROW’s hands fly to BATMAN’s wrist, wrapping it in a death grip in an attempt to stop him. His eyes are wide._

_BATMAN hesitates. He eventually replaces his hand to SCARECROW’s shoulder. SCARECROW’s arms are still up, tense._

SCARECROW: _[Meeting BATMAN’s eyes]_ You’re not going to…?

BATMAN: No. _[Pauses]_ It isn’t necessary.

SCARECROW: _[Slowly drops his arms, then his head. Under Batman’s hold his shoulders droop]_ H-huh.

BATMAN: Are you done?

SCARECROW: _[Looks up a little, spent and shaken]_ …I can’t possibly answer that question in a way that will satisfy you.

_BATMAN grunts, and SCARECROW lets his head fall again—closing his eyes._

_A tapping begins, faintly. It grows louder. SCARECROW glances up._

_BATMAN turns just as the RAVEN MOCKER, in a full-face mask that presumably has a filter built in, launches herself at him—successfully stabbing him deep in the side and knocking him off-balance. SCARECROW is released._

BATMAN: _[Eyes wide under his mask]_ NGGH! _[He stumbles back, and the RAVEN MOCKER slashes him across the stomach, bringing him to his knees]_

_SCARECROW watches, stunned. The RAVEN MOCKER turns away from BATMAN and walks toward SCARECROW._

SCARECROW: What are you _doing_ here? How long have you been—

_The RAVEN MOCKER rests a hand on his cheek. SCARECROW goes silent just before she pulls his mask off._

_JONATHAN looks a little shocked, like he’s honestly not sure how to process what’s happening. His face is likely a bit bruised or bloody from being hit. In front of him, the RAVEN MOCKER grows even more birdlike, losing human features, neck blending skeletal with feathers, arms and canes transforming into bone wings, mask becoming a true bird skull with yellow light spilling from her eye sockets._

_The ceiling is, like the aviary from his childhood, open to show the night sky. The walls are made of human skin, semi-transparent, pale, slightly loose with black veins spiderwebbing underneath. Bone-like projections give the building structure. The stained glass becomes a colorful membrane, the angels are nude, broken in ways that suggest violence, and the organ stretches to an unusual height._

_Crows are gathering. A huge number of them._

_The color drains from JONATHAN’s face as the RAVEN MOCKER leans in close, pressing him into the wall again, head beside his. 55 Her beak opens._

RAVEN MOCKER: Run away, Jonathan Crane.

_JONATHAN pulls aside, stumbles toward the exit. His expression is one of mute terror. He glances from her to the crows, backing away. The crows dive. JONATHAN turns and bolts._

_We switch back to a normal view of the church with the RAVEN MOCKER watching JONATHAN’s retreat, BATMAN getting to his feet. His teeth are clenched, his hand at his stomach._

BATMAN: You let him go.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Glancing back]_ Only for now.

BATMAN: _[More or less upright]_ You’ve put innocent people at risk.

_Switch back to BATMAN’s perspective in the red church. There are flies swarming. The RAVEN MOCKER resembles a plague doctor more than a bird. Where flesh would be exposed here, it’s skeleton and torn skin._

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Turns to face him fully]_ Not all that different from what you do, hm?

_The gun-organ has shifted, and now resembles a collection of scalpels._

BATMAN: What are you _talking_ about?

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Leaning on her bone canes, leisurely, gesturing with one hand]_ At least when I’m through with him, this will be _over_. _[Examines her bloody knife, saunters toward BATMAN]_ You, on the other hand, have a nasty habit of dragging things on indefinitely.

RAVEN MOCKER: The lunatics escape again and again then everyone twiddles their thumbs as people die.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Lunging to stab BATMAN in the chest]_ Who are you to be so self-righteous?

BATMAN: _[Slams her aside with his uninjured 56 arm before she can reach him]_ I am no executioner.

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Hitting the ground]_ UGH!

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Pulling herself back up quickly, hurries under an archway as BATMAN advances]_ How nice for you.

BATMAN: _[Stumbles, hisses again, looks at his injured leg. The flesh is crumbling off of him, exposing bone underneath. He grits his teeth. Dead bats fall to the ground surrounding him. Angrily]_ What are you trying to do, Albright?

RAVEN MOCKER: _[In shadows, eyes glowing, trailing light as she moves]_ I thought it was obvious.

_Another RAVEN MOCKER shows up behind BATMAN, and stabs him in the back._

RAVEN MOCKER: I am an executioner.

BATMAN: GHHHUH! _[Throws the RAVEN MOCKER off of him. She hits the ground hard]_

BATMAN: _[Slumping, not quite steady on his own feet, rotting inside out from his wounds visually]_ How…how could you let him turn you into this?

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Pushes herself up again, snarling]_ _Turn me into this?_

_She gets to her feet, stumbles, uses her canes to balance herself._

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Furious]_ It was MY choice!

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Slamming a cane into BATMAN’s head, knocking him down]_ He might have opened my eyes, but Scarecrow never forced me to be anything!

RAVEN MOCKER: _[Moving closer]_ Does that _horrify_ you, Batman? _[Raising her foot to stomp on his head]_ Does the idea that I WANT to be this just chill you to the bone?

_BATMAN grabs her foot and pulls hard, sending the RAVEN MOCKER slamming to the ground. She hits her head and lies still._

_We cut to a panel of GORDON, bound to a chair, being rescued by a gasmask-clad BATGIRL who is cutting him free. The room is dark and full of barrel-like devices set to release fear toxin. GORDON looks relieved._

_We cut to another, similar shot of police approaching VERONICA, who’s a wreck, still wearing her dress and her jewelry. The necklace rests at her feet._

_And we cut to yet another panel of a door being open on LELAND, in a familiar situation, sitting calmly. She has a faint smile for the police._

_Return to BATMAN and the RAVEN MOCKER, showing the scene as it really is without toxin effects._

_BATMAN rises with some difficulty, stands over the RAVEN MOCKER, and looks down._

BATMAN: _[Quietly]_ Of course it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 55 The position mirror’s Sherry’s from the flashback earlier.
> 
> 56 Not the one with the shoulder Jonathan slashed up.


	10. Chapter 10

_Cut to a statue of a harpy in front of a series of enormous, multi-paneled windows in the sitting room of Wayne Manor. It’s early afternoon and sunny. Pull back. The walls are gray and there are a few ornamental columns. Traditional decor. The area around the television uses red furniture and a dark carpet, with a large flatscreen on the floor in front of a series of couches._

_BRUCE and ALFRED sit next to each other on one of these couches—BRUCE sans shirt with a number of bandages over his injuries from the recent fight and a cast on his lower leg. He leans on the armrest while ALFRED sits upright. There are cheese sandwiches on the table in front of them, and a few crumbs to suggest one has already been eaten._

_BRUCE and ALFRED are both watching the news._

SUMMER (OP): …former victim Becky Albright was apprehended last night by the Batman with minor head injuries. Jonathan Crane remains at large, but Commissioner Gordon returned from his ordeal assuring the public that the police are hard at work tracking him down.

_Shift attention to the television screen. SUMMER is sitting in LELAND’s office on the couch, but LELAND herself is not currently in the shot._

SUMMER: Noted psychiatrist Joan Leland, who has a history of working with Scarecrow, returns to us now after her own kidnapping to discuss her experience with GCN.

_The camera pans to show LELAND sitting in a chair facing SUMMER. She’s very composed, with her hands resting in her lap._

SUMMER: Dr. Leland, how do you plan to proceed from here knowing your patient is willing to throw your life away at a moment’s notice?

LELAND: It isn’t all that surprising, really. The psychiatrists here at Arkham all sign on with the understanding that we’ll be working with dangerous psychotics. It’s a delicate situation.

LELAND: Part of my job involves continuing treatments despite these risks. _[Glances at the camera/the readers briefly, then back at SUMMER]_ At this point I hope to do everything in my power to assure Jonathan that I’m no threat to him. He’ll find me waiting to resume sessions as usual when he gets back.

_Pan to BRUCE and ALFRED. Light from the television is still present._

ALFRED: _[After a beat]_ Do you suppose she’s telling the truth?

BRUCE: It’s hard to know. Leland has been one of the strongest advocates in rogue rehabilitation. But Albright’s attacks seemed calculated to prey on Crane’s weaknesses. That information is hardly public knowledge.

BRUCE: Another staff member might have been able to obtain that information.

ALFRED: Arkham is not known for its principles.

BRUCE: No.

BRUCE: _[Frowning]_ It’s worth keeping an eye on her.

ALFRED: And what about Miss Albright?

BRUCE: _[Sighs, rubs his eyes with his hand]_ She has a point. Arkham is a revolving door. There needs to be a solution.

BRUCE: Maybe it’s our courts. Maybe it’s our institutions. But the system as it exists is flawed.

BRUCE: …I want to believe in Leland’s cause.

ALFRED: And do you?

_[We cut to the television again. VERONICA is being questioned by JACK RYDER in her home, which uses traditional furniture and is utterly lavish but otherwise up to you to design. She’s looking at her knees, shoulders slumped, subdued.]_

BRUCE: I don’t know.

_Transition to BECKY wearing asylum dress, sitting on the couch in RUTH ADAMS’ office. This room is fairly minimalist—blue and gray tones, undecorated, simple, modern furniture. Chic but impersonal. Sunlight filters through the windows._

_ADAMS is at her desk on the phone, all-business, face down. She wears a brown suit—modest and not very exciting, but professional._

_BECKY’s eyes are on her lap 57, where a transparent plastic cane rests. She looks a little unhappy and frustrated._

_ADAMS hangs up the phone._

ADAMS: Sorry we lost the end of the session like that.

BECKY: _[Looks up, smiles wryly]_ I don’t mind.

ADAMS: _[Looks heavenward for a moment, exasperated. She stands, starts walking toward BECKY]_ You should be happy to know that your parents are about to be released from the treatment center.

BECKY: _[Glances aside for a moment, pressing her lips together. When she turns to ADAMS again she’s flippant]_ Wonderful. 

BECKY: Can I go?

ADAMS: _[Sighs]_ Yes, you can go. But I want you to think about what we discussed.

BECKY: _[Standing, using her cane for support as she always does]_ I’ll consider it.

_ADAMS waves her out._

_BECKY opens the door and finds two orderlies waiting for her. Both are wearing billed hats. One is very tall and thin, the other maybe a little shorter and average build. The taller one has slightly messy hair and a mustache, but his face is mostly obscured._

_The SHORTER ORDERLY takes BECKY by the arm. The TALL ORDERLY has an Arkham-issued messenger bag at his waist, his hands closed at his side. The three of them walk down the hall._

_Cut to the outside of BECKY’s cell. The hall is otherwise empty right now. The SHORTER ORDERLY is holding BECKY’s arm very tightly._

BECKY: _[Coldly]_ It’s time to let go.

_Head down, the SHORTER ORDERLY releases BECKY and walks past the TALL ORDERLY to open the panel to her cell. BECKY is in the foreground, looking irritated as she waits. In the background the TALL ORDERLY stands behind the SHORTER ORDERLY._

_The TALL ORDERLY slits the SHORTER ORDERLY’s throat from behind with a pocketknife._

_The SHORTER ORDERLY crumples forward against the panel. BECKY turns, surprised and confused._

_Zoom in on the TALL ORDERLY’s mouth as he pulls his mustache off. Then cut to his eyes as he puts his glasses on. It is very clear now that this orderly is in fact JONATHAN._

JONATHAN: One for sorrow.

_His hand reaches into the messenger bag, pulls out an orderly’s uniform and hands it to BECKY. BECKY looks completely shocked._

JONATHAN: Two for mirth.

_We see a partial shot of JONATHAN as he reaches into one pocket and pulls out a raven skull pin. Shift to show his face, which is very wry as he hands it to her._

JONATHAN: Three for a wedding.

_He pulls a small gasmask 58 out of the bag._

JONATHAN: Four for birth.

_BECKY looks at the pin in her hand thoughtfully, bends to put it and the uniform on the ground next to her before straightening and looking back up at JONATHAN._

BECKY: _[Casually]_ Sweet, but what’s with the mask?

JONATHAN: Temporary protection. _[Pulls back the cuff of his sleeve to reveal a toxin canister]_ I’m thinking it might be easier to remove you without the screaming and crying.

BECKY: _[Smirking a little]_ We wouldn’t want that. _[Cocks her head at him]_ You really are crazy, aren’t you?

JONATHAN: _[Clipped]_ Do you want it or not?

BECKY: _[Very, very dry]_ It does beat the lingerie.

JONATHAN: _[Glances down, mouth taut, then back up]_ Has your answer changed?

BECKY: _[Her smile stretches into a grin, wicked]_ Don’t be ridiculous. I’m still going to murder you. _[She slips her hand behind JONATHAN’s head, fingers in his hair]_ And I promise to make it hurt in every way possible.

JONATHAN: _[Stares at her, shocked, mouth slightly parted for a moment. Then he smiles back in a mirrored expression]_ I’d like to see you try.

_BECKY drags him into a kiss, which after a moment he returns._

_The story closes with a flock of raven silhouettes flying across the shot until we’re left with nothing but darkness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 57 Like Veronica.
> 
> 58 See _Batman Begins_.
> 
>  
> 
> And that's the end! Thanks again for reading! If you get the chance please let bobaedraws and I know what you thought via kudos or comments, we'd love to hear in.


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